


I Will Try To Fix You

by bryzknowstheuniverse



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: AU where IT never happened, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Benverly is present, Bev is a great friend, Bill Denbrough is depressed, Blow Jobs, But Bill has dreamed of Pennywise and the damage he caused, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Comfort/Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mike gets some freaking romantic attention, Multi, Panic Attacks, Reddie is present, Rimming, Stanley Uris Has OCD - Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Stenbrough is the main though, There will also be sex because sexual healing and whatnot, This starts out heavy on the feelings but will develop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-02-13 05:51:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12977427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryzknowstheuniverse/pseuds/bryzknowstheuniverse
Summary: Derry Memorial Mental Wellness Inpatient Program. Bill Denbrough was admitted for severe depression. Stan Uris was admitted for OCD and anxiety. They meet and help each other through it.





	1. William Denbrough

Depression. In psychiatry, depression is defined as a condition of general emotional dejection and withdrawal;sadness greater and more prolonged than that warranted by any objective reason.What gives doctors the fucking right to determine how long sadness should be allowed? Human beings can’t be so easily summed up as a definition from some generic dictionary. Human beings feel and react. Bill Denbrough was depressed, but how dare anyone tell him that he was labeled as this because he was still hung up over the death of his baby brother? How dare someone put a time limit on how long he could grieve? Four years was not enough time to get over the loss of someone he loved with his whole heart, to get over Georgie.

 

For Bill, his depression manifested itself differently than the stupid definition Dr. Rhodes had given his parents, different than the brochures that had sat unread on the Denbrough’s kitchen counter. A feeling which makes you think there is no hope, no way to survive, and no point in carrying on this charade you called a life. A feeling which is so emotionally pressing, you feel as if you're going to explode with tears. Sadness, hopelessness, loss of interest, persistent boredom, social isolation, poor communication, low self esteem, guilt, extreme sensitivity to failure, increased irritability, difficulty with relationships, poor concentration, insomnia, self-harm, and thoughts of suicide. Bill knew the feelings well. Too well arguably.

 

 

 

He was thirteen when it happened. It had been raining for days, the rain itself wasn’t uncommon in the small town of Derry, Maine, but it was the abundance of it that was concerning. Bill had come down with a bad cold, fever spiking, and aches plaguing his whole body. He wanted to stay in bed, wrapped up away from the world. His little brother Georgie had different plans and had bounded into his room, the door slamming as it hit the wall and jolted Bill from his nap. He rubbed his face, and struggled to sit up without falling over. Georgie was sitting on the end of his bed, looking at him with big wonder filled eyes.

 

“Billy! Will you come outside with me pleeeeeeeeease?” Georgie begged, “Mom and Dad said that they’re too busy, but I want to let the S.S. Georgie float through the water! It would be so cool, Billy!”

 

“Georgie, y-you know I c-can’t go outside. I’m s-sick.” Bill felt bad, shutting him down, but even sitting up in bed was causing his head to spin, walking and going outside, especially in the bad weather, wasn’t a possibility. “W-why don’t you just w-wait until Dad can g-go out with you, I’m s-sure that after t-the football g-game is over, he w-wouldn’t mind.” Georgie pouted, upset from not getting the answer he wanted, but began formulating another plan in his head.

 

“Okay, Billy. I’ll wait for dad.” He gave Bill a hug before sliding off of the bed and leaving the room. Bill’s fever took over again and he fell back asleep. He had fitful dreams of an evil clown terrorizing his town. His friends Beverly, Ben, and Mike were there, but there were also three other boys present who he didn’t know. It was bloody and horrific, a pure nightmare. Bill woke with a start when Dream Bill had found a yellow raincoat that looked just like Georgie’s.

 

“Georgie! Georgie! Georgie!” He wailed as he shot out of his bed, panic filling him. He rushed across the hall to Georgie’s room, but he wasn’t in there. He shot down the stairs, but all he saw was his father watching the game on tv. His mother was in the kitchen, flipping through some magazine. “M-mom. Where’s G-Georgie?” Bill asked frantically, she sighed as she closed her magazine and looked up at her eldest son.

 

“I don’t know, William. He said that you were taking him outside to sail his boat that you made him.I think the better question is, why are you here asking me where he is when you should be with him?” She asked with a bored tone.

 

“I...I told h-him that I c-couldn’t because I’m s-sick.” Bill was panicking, and his mother’s blaise attitude was not helping. “H-he went outside?” Bill didn’t wait for her answer, he already knew that it would be unhelpful. He raced to the front door, pulling his boots and jacket on and headed out into the storm. He searched the streets of Derry, checking everywhere that he could, but it was no use. He couldn’t find Georgie.

 

In the end, it’s the police that found his body. Floating in the shallow waters of the Barrens. He drowned in the filth of the storm drain, alone and scared. At least that’s what the officers hypothesized. Bill wasn’t there to protect him, to save him.

 

His father shut down, he showed almost no emotion in the months after Georgie’s death, except for the occasional fit of anger and disgust towards his other son. His mother sobbed uncontrollably, mourning the loss of her perfect little boy. They blamed him. They both thought it was his fault that Georgie was dead. If Bill had gone with him...If Bill hadn’t made that stupid boat and encouraged him to let it float...If Bill had never been born.

 

Bill cuts himself for the first time six weeks after Georgie’s body is found. He sliced into the flesh of his forearm with an old razor blade from his father’s shaving kit. He cut himself just to see if he could still feel anything at all. As the blood seeped out of the wound in crimson beads, Bill felt relief. His heart was still aching with the pain of loss, but the immediate pain was in his arm, and he was controlling it. He pressed a dark towel to him arm, waiting for the bleeding to stop, before washing the wound in the sink and putting a bandage on it. The overwhelming numbness took over his body again shortly after.

 

 

 

Self harm became Bill’s go to in the years that followed. What had started as a single cut once a month to keep feeling had escalated. By the time he was seventeen, even pressing three or four lines in a day wasn’t enough. His arms and legs were littered with the scars of cuts, that he carefully kept covered with pants and sweaters. During baseball season, he would only make marks on his legs, where his uniform pants and socks would cover. He would make excuses for not changing with the other guys as well. Bill had become very good at covering up his habit. Not even his best friends knew.

 

Bev suspected. Of course she did. Beverly Marsh could read Bill Denbrough like a book. She knew that he was still suffering from the loss of his brother, knew that even though he was forced into therapy by ty the school guidance counselor and was being pumped full of anti-depressants that it wasn’t enough. Bill was self medicating, she just wasn’t sure how. Beverly worried about what would happen when Bill went too far, he had been on the edge for far too long, and she knew he would soon tumble over.

 

 

 

It’s the fourth anniversary of Georgie’s death. Bill wakes up to an empty house, his parents nowhere to be found. It’s not unusual for them to be missing without an explanation, they stopped caring about him long ago. Bill pushes the door open to Georgie’s room, it’s exactly as the little boy left it. Filled with toys and memories of happier times. Of the promise that Georgie’s life had once held. It feels so wrong to Bill. So wrong to have this time capsule from what feels like a different life. Bill feels the tears dripping down his face, he can’t handle it anymore. He closes the door and pulls on his sneakers, grabbing his special pouch and leaves.

 

He rides Silver down to the Barrens. It’s where Georgie’s body was found floating so long ago. Bill drops the bike, and wades down into the water. He sits there for a few minutes. Looking around, tears still streaming. Life is so cruel. So uncaring. Bill opens the drawstring of his pouch and pulls out the two objects that are inside. He let’s the little paper boat float in the water, the “S.S. Georgie and Bill” written in black marker visible over the waterline, and turns the razor blade over in his hands.He knows what he has to do.

 

“I’m coming, Georgie. I’ll be with you soon.We’ll float together.” Bill whispers. Bill digs the razors blade into his left arm and slices deep, from wrist to elbow, he slices across his wrist just to be sure, and with his shaking left hand repeats the actions on his right arm. He submerges his arms into the water, a pool of blood circling him. As the light fades around him, he sees a red balloon and he swears that he can hear Georgie’s giggle, but he’s already gone.

 

 

 

“Bill! Oh my God, Bill!” Beverly is screaming, she had a dark feeling in her heart, she just knew something was wrong with her friend. She had dragged her boyfriend Ben out of bed, insisting that he help her find their friend Bill. Mike had already been to Bill’s house and confirmed that he wasn’t there when the three of them met up. The Barrens, they had all known at once that they needed to get there as soon as possible. Now they were climbing over the rocks, trying to find their friend. “Bill Denbrough, I swear to God…” Bev froze, she sees a figure slumped over the rocks a few yards ahead, and she takes off running, screaming for Mike and Ben to go get help.

 

She holds Bill’s face in her hands, his eyes are unfocused. She reaches for his wrist to check for a pulse, but sees the damage that he had done.

 

“Holy shit, Bill. What’d you do to yourself?” She mutters, before looking over he shoulder at Ben, “We need to try to slow the bleeding! We...we have to press down on the wounds.” Bev rips her shirt over her head, and wraps Bill’s left arm, pressing into the wound, Ben does the same for his right arm. She reaches out with her other hand to feel Bill’s throat for a pulse. It’s there but it’s faint. “Where the fuck is Mike?!? He needs help! He’s going to die!” Beverly is sobbing, her best friend lying motionless in the water.

 

“He’s coming back, Bev. He went to get someone, to call for an ambulance. It’s going to be alright.” He reassures calmly. He knows that Bev and Bill share a special bond, and though he sometimes gets jealous over this fact because he knows that they used to date, he clamps it down. He loves Beverly with his whole heart, and trusts her. He loves Bill, he is his friend, and he understands that Bev needs to be there for him sometimes.

 

The paramedics arrive less than five minutes later. They pull Bill from the water and onto a stretcher, and race him to Derry Memorial Hospital. Bev, Ben, and Mike sit shivering and shaking in the waiting area of the Emergency Room. Hoping desperately that one of the nurses will tell them how Bill is doing. After an hour of waiting, they see Bill’s parents walk into the ER. They pay no mind to the three teenagers covered in gray water and their son’s blood. Their faces are blank, and they are taken down a back hallway.

 

Mike decides that now is as good of a time as ever and that he is getting answers. He’s usually kind and even tempered, but there is nothing about this situation that is allowing him to be of sound mind. He walks up to the counter and waits for the young and pretty nurse to acknowledge his presence.

 

“Ma’am. I was wondering if you could tell me if there is any news about my friend, Bill Denbrough?” Mike says politely when she has met his eyes with her own.

 

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but I am not supposed to give out patient information to people who are not family.” She says softly, her voice sweet like bubblegum, even when delivering the poor news. Mike’s eyes begin to water, he can’t help it, and her eyes grow large and she gasps at the sight of the boy in front of her.

 

“P..please. He’s my best friend. And we found him. Can’t you tell me anything?” He stumbles out through tears. The young nurse places her hand over her heart.

 

“You wait right here, I will see what I can find out. This will be our little secret, Hun.” Mike nods and smiles at her, and waits patiently at the counter until she comes back a few moments later. She waves her hand to summon Mike over, he quickly rushes to her. “Okay, so your friend is in stable condition. He lost a lot of blood, but you guys got to him in time.” Mike lets out a sigh of relief. Bill is alive. They got to him in time. She frowns a little at him, “There’s a bit of unfortunate news though, his parents have decided to admit him to the psych ward. They don’t want to deal with his problems.”

 

“Can we see him?” Mike is thrown off. He knew that Bill’s home situation wasn’t the best, his parents were absent a lot, they neglected him, plain and simple. But this was on a whole different level. Bill had tried to kill himself, he was crying out for help, signalling that he was in trouble, and they didn’t want to deal with it?

 

“Aw. He will be under observation for the first seventy two hours, no visitors or outside contact. It’s mandatory, but if you call me after that, I will see if I can get you in for visitation. You and your other friends.” She smiles at Mike, trying to convince him that it’ll be alright.

 

“Thank you for all your help…?” Mike says, trying to see her nametag, and spotting it quickly. “Nurse Miller.”

 

“It’s Jessie” She smiles at him. “Here’s my number, give me a call in a few days.” Mike smiles at Jessie, he wasn’t used to the people of Derry being helpful.

 

“Thank you for everything, Jessie. I’m Mike. I’ll talk to you in a few days.” Mike heads back to an eager Bev and Ben to let them in on the news. He had no idea how they were going to make it seventy two hours before checking in on their friend.

 

 

 

Bill wakes up in a cold, white, sterile room. His arms are wrapped in thick bandages and they are being restrained to the bed by some kind of cuffs. His throat hurts, and it takes him a minute for his brain to remember what happened.

He tried to kill himself. Tried to be with Georgie, and he had failed. Bill feels the deep throbbing in his arms, and the pain that’s permanently taken up residence in his heart. He closes his eyes and feels his tears building up once again. His monitors begin beeping, and a nurse rushes into the room to check on him.

 

“Mr. Denbrough?” The nurse says softly as she approaches, and Bill opens his eyes to look at her. “Hi sweetie, I’m Nurse Jensen and I’m here to watch over you. Do you remember what happened?” Bill nodded slowly in response. “Okay, honey. Well after your friends brought you in the doctors managed to stitch you up as good as new and get your heart pumping again…”

 

“M-my f-friends?” Bill stutters out. What did she know about his friends? What did they know about him? He needed to talk to them.

 

“Yes. Your friends are the ones who found you and got help. Pretty little redhead and two other boys. They got you right in time.” She smiled, but Bill wasn’t comforted by it. “Your parents have decided that it is best for you to stay here at the hospital. In our Mental Wellness Inpatient Program, until you have things sorted out.”

 

Bill’s heart broke in his chest at those words. He wasn’t surprised. His parents didn’t care about him, they probably would have been relieved if he had actually died.Now they were sticking him in this damn hospital as his prison, instead of actually admitting that their son needed them. Even knowing what his parents were like, couldn’t stop the pain he felt knowing that even after this, they didn’t care.

 

Bill doesn’t hear anything else that the nurse says, he’s numb.

 

 

 

The world of the psych ward is gray. The smell of disinfectant is constant, and Bill clutches his pillow over his head at night to drown out the screams from night terrors of other patients. At some point in time he paid attention enough to the nurses and doctors to know that he was still in a seventy two hour observation period. That he could have no contact with anyone, including other patients. He was on suicide watch.

 

His tiny room has no windows. He can’t see anything, but the four walls. One of the nurses brings him some paper and a pen to entertain himself, along with some beat up paperback novels. He knows that anything he writes on the paper will be used against him, psychoanalyzed by the doctors. He has no interest in the books either. He sleeps a lot, the vivid colors in his dream world keeping him sane, keep him from losing his mind.

 

When the seventy two hours are up, Bill is lead from the room and down a corridor that empties into a large recreational room. The room has a tv, sofas, some tables, and a sad looking set of bookshelves with old board games and tattered books on them. There’s a nurses station in the corner, and Bill can see several obvious cameras around the room. The patients are always being watched.There are two separate wings that branch off from the rec room, one for boys and one for girls.

 

Bill follows the nurse to a door, the room is clean and bare. There’s absolutely no personality at all. There’s a bed, a nightstand with a plastic lamp, and a small desk with a chair. There is a window. It has no blinds or curtains, but the desk is situated under it. It’s much better than the observation room.

 

“So we are in mandatory solitary hours for another forty five minutes, and then the doors open so that you can go to the rec room if you want. If you need anything, all you have to do is press the red button by the door and a nurse will come down to see what you need.” The nurse explains, Bill nods and sits down on the edge of the bed. It’s hard, no comfort to it, but he’s not surprised.

 

When the nurse closes the door, he can hear the audible click that the bolt makes when it locks him in, like he’s in prison. He looks around the room, and sighs. This place is worse than even his own house. He fiddles with his bandages too, the scabs on his cuts itching, and the stitches feeling too tight. After what feels like an eternity, he hears the door unlock and the noise of other patients moving around. There’s some laughter and chatting, which surprises Bill. Who could be fucking happy in this place?

 

Bill decides to venture out of his room, see who else is out there. Maybe if he plays nice, they’ll let him have phone privileges and he can call Bev. He wants to apologize, he feels bad that she’s the one who had to find him. It must have been awful. He walks slowly down the hallway, until he reaches the rec room. There are different clusters of kids scattered around, some around his age and some younger. Bill wonders if they have a separate section for older patients, they must. Can’t have crazy adults interacting with kids he guesses. He’s about to give up on this whole thing, to go back to his room and go to sleep when he spots something. Or someone.

 

Sitting at one of the tables is a boy around his age. Golden brown curls cover his head, and he has soft brown eyes. He’s looking at a book, and trying to copy something from it into a notebook. He laughs at something another patient says in passing, but stays focused on his task. Bill swears that he’s seen him before, in a dream or something, a long time ago. He’s beautiful. He takes Bill’s breath away.

 

Suddenly the boy lifts his eyes and meets Bill’s, he smiles, and suddenly Bill’s world is in color and his heart is alive again.


	2. Stanley Uris

1...2...3...4. Deep breath. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. Check it again. Check it again or something bad will happen. Check it again or everything will burn. You’ll be responsible. It’s all your fault. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. Can’t you do anything fucking right? You’re so stupid. They’d be better off without you. Check again. Stop crying. You’re so weak. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. STOP!

 

Stanley Uris’ mind was his own form of a prison. His thoughts would slip, obsession running rampant, controlling, tugging at him until he would give in. Straightening. Reorganizing. Washing. Counting. Asking for reassurance. He would try taking deep breaths, throat feeling like it was closing as he slipped into yet another panic attack, and then the world would go dark. He could be fine one moment and the next his at the sick mercy of his illness.

 

 

Stan has been suffering since he was a small child. At first, everyone just assumed that he was well organized and neat. They couldn’t understand that even at a young age this precision was a result of his compulsions. The compulsions caused by the destructive obsessive thoughts that swarmed his mind constantly. When his parents first notice his “problem” he is nine years old. He’s been alternating between insomniatic episodes and night terrors so violent that they are afraid he will begin ripping the flesh off of his body. The screaming is unlike anything that his mother has ever heard, and she clutches her chest sobbing night after night when she can’t wake her son up and take his pain away. They find a psychiatrist who specializes in helping children and take him as soon as they possibly can.

 

The diagnosis is not simple. It is certainly not what the Uris family was hoping for. The proposed treatment plan is even worse. The doctor looks remorseful as he delivers the news.

 

“Mr. and Mrs. Uris, there’s no easy way to put this. Stanley seems to be incredibly disturbed mentally. I’ve never seen it this bad in such a young child, from what you’ve told me he’s been suffering for a long time. He has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, a severe anxiety disorder, parasomnia, and quite frankly some other issues that we can’t pinpoint right now. We will have to watch them as he gets older. But now, we need to discuss some treatment options.”

 

The doctor suggests medication and cognitive therapy. He states that serotonin reuptake inhibitors are the only option for Stan’s treatment that could result in him having some sense of a normal childhood. His mother cries more, praying for a solution that doesn’t include pumping her little boy full of medication. Cognitive therapy is a scary for them as well. There’s no definitive proof that it will work and could be emotionally distressing for Stan. His father, as the man, gets to make the ultimate decision and refuses both treatment plans, claiming that his son will be cured by religion. That prayer and devotion to God would fix what was wrong with their little boy.

 

This of course does not work. Stan is subjected to Torah study every single night. He is required to follow the Jewish tradition of praying three times a day. His father drags him to Temple whenever Stan has a free moment. Stan tries to protest, tries to explain how much the Temple scares him, but his father denies him. He tells him to grow up, and demands that he reads the scrolls again. Stan begins to resent his religion, and this brings on a whole new set of issues, obsessions, and compulsions. Stan begins getting night terrors centering around an odd woman playing the flute from a painting in his father’s office. It shakes Stan to his very core, and he can never escape her. Stan also become obsessed with the idea of eating food that isn’t kosher. He can’t quite explain why, but it starts when he’s sitting across from his best friend Richie in their favorite diner when Richie orders and devours a double bacon cheeseburger. A piece of bacon falls onto Richie’s plate and it makes his mouth water. He feels the strong urge to grab the bacon, but stops himself that time. It’s only the start of his brain obsessing over the destruction of his family’s Jewish ideals.

 

Stan feels pulled towards the Uris Mezuzah when he comes home every day, but he doesn’t feel safe and protected by it. He feels like it’s keeping him held hostage in his house, where he is punished for the thoughts in his head that he can’t control. His brain tells him that all of his problems could be solved if only he destroyed it. He wouldn’t be bullied at school anymore if the visual reminder of his family being different was removed either. Over time, his brain warps the idea and it’s settled. Stan’s only option of surviving is to burn the Mezuzah. It’s the only way he will be able to live.

 

Stan’s mom comes home from the grocery store to a horrific site. Her ten year old son is sitting in front of the fireplace, as she comes closer she realizes that he is watching something burn, his eyes mesmerized as the embers flicker.

 

“Stanley, what on earth are you doing?” She asks, fear building in her body, her son was playing with fire and seemed to be relaxed by it.

 

“It needed to burn, Mommy.” Stan turns to look at her, his face is calm and so is the tone in his voice. She begins to shake, he seems emotionless, she’s never seen him like this.

 

“What had to burn?” She shakes her head, this is dangerous, she has to be stern. “Stan. You know that you aren’t allowed to play with matches, what do you have in there?”

 

“The Mezuzah. It had to burn. It was keeping me prisoner in this house. The thoughts in my head said that if it burned that Dad would stop yelling at me and punishing me with the Torah.”

 

In that moment she realizes just how bad her baby has gotten. Religion wasn’t going to cure him. Punishment wasn’t going to cure him. Stan needed to be put on medication, he needed to be in therapy. She wanted her little boy to be happy instead of plagued by horrible and blasphemous thoughts.

 

Stan starts treatment the following week.

 

 

It’s been six years and Stan is still in therapy. He successfully copes. Mostly. Then again, Stan isn’t really sure that barely surviving when your mind is the thing that is trying to destroy you is success. Stan once looked up the definition for anxiety in one of the dictionaries that his parents kept in the house, he’s not sure why he did, he just felt like he had to at that particular moment. It was defined as a state of apprehension and psychic tension occurring in some forms of mental disorder. Stan rolled his eyes at that. He wasn’t sure why he had thought that a definition could ever come close to explaining something so all consuming, he mentally scolds himself for the moment of stupidity. Anxiety for Stan means so much more. It means struggling to be able to do anything remotely social for the fear of not knowing what will happen. It means battling the obsessive faults that build to a crescendo where the only reasonable looking outcome would to be to end his suffering all together. It means that he has to cope with the fact that he is suffering from OCD and that he knows that his thoughts are irrational, but his anxiety makes it impossible for him to forget or calm down.

 

”Anxiety is the biggest bitch that you will ever meet, but the shittiest reality is that it’s all inside your head.” Stan thinks that this is the most accurate definition he’s ever heard for anxiety came from none other than his Trashmouth best friend.

 

On nights after episodes where suicide becomes a recurring thought, Stan sleeps deeply. He dreams of a different time and place, he’s still himself, he’s still in Derry, but there’s someone else there with him. It’s a boy around his age, tall and lean, with auburn hair and piercing blue eyes. He has a kind smile and speaks with a stutter. They sit in a field of daffodils and talk and laugh for hours. Stan makes fun of him constantly wearing cut off jean shorts, and the other boy flushes and tells Stan that if he’s just jealous that they’re infinitely cooler than his polo and khakis combo. Stan never learns his name. He thinks that these dreams might be worse than the night terrors, they dangle a beautiful boy in front of him who he loves and cherishes and then snatch him away as the morning dawns.

 

 

He hits a rough patch six months into his sixteenth year. Suddenly it seems like the drugs aren’t working anymore. He’s sitting in cognitive therapy three times a week , but it’s not enough. He starts counting again. Everything in fours. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. He starts checking everything repeatedly. Check it again. Check it again or something bad will happen. Check it again or everything will burn. His brain makes him feel as if he holds the key to everyone’s safety. Threatens him with all of the negative outcomes that he could cause.  You’ll be responsible. It’s all your fault. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. Makes him doubt himself more than anything else. Makes him question why people talk to him, why anyone would want him around. Can’t you do anything fucking right? You’re so stupid. They’d be better off without you. Check again. Stop crying. You’re so weak. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. STOP! He wishes that everything would just stop.

 

 

His mother is crying again. They’ve tried everything. Stan taps his fingers in series of four against his leg. He knows that she is crying because of him, because he’s not good enough. They’re on their way back to the hospital now, to talk to his doctor. Stan had another panic attack, the walls felt like they were closing in on him. He couldn’t breathe, his chest cavity was collapsing, everything was spinning. His mom found him passed out on the floor, body convulsing in a seizure like state. As soon as he came down from the attack, she was helping him into the car.

 

They sit in the waiting room. Stan’s doctor works as part of a team for Derry Memorial Hospital’s Mental Wellness program. This is his eleventh psychiatrist since he was ten years old. There’s always something, either the doctor decides that Stan needs someone else’s help or his parents decide that they don’t like what the doctor is saying when they provide their analysis of Stan’s mental health. Either way Stan is shuffled to the next professional who dares to take a shot at cracking Stanley Uris’ mind maze.

 

1...2...3...4. Deep breath. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. The doctor is going to tell you that you’re fine, but you’re not fine. You’re fucked up. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. Tap, tap, tap,tap. You’re all alone. Like it should be. Richie and Eddie don’t even need you anymore. They have each other.What could you possibly offer them?1...2...3...4. Deep breath…

 

“Stan?” The receptionist calls and Stan moves towards the solid wood door and follows the woman back to the consultation room. “Dr. Parr will be right in to see you, sweetie.” Stan fakes a smile to cover up the feeling that he wants to throw up at the sound of her voice. The room they have him in today is orange, and Stan finds it repulsive. There’s things everywhere. Toys for smaller children, magazines, paper. Stan twitches in his seat, sitting on his hands so that he doesn’t start trying to fix everything. He’s fighting the urge to the point of his head spinning and repeating his numbers,1...2....3...4, when Dr. Parr comes in.

 

“Stanley. I hear you had another episode today.” Dr. Parr says, even emotionless tone everpresent. He sits down in the chair across from Stan and opens his notebook, uncapping his pen. “Why don’t you tell me more about the thoughts that lead up to it?”

 

“Uhm...I don’t know.” Stan lets out, and he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what led his brain spiraling down, he just knows that for the first time in a long time, he thinks that the obsessive thoughts were right.

 

“Try.” Dr. Parr urges. Stan could bullshit him right now, he’s not been treating him for that long. He could blame it on the memory of the terrifying clown that he had a nightmare of when he was younger. The first time he ever dreamed of the other boy, but Stan wants to get better.

 

“I guess I just started thinking about how therapy doesn’t seem to be helping me anymore, at least this kind. The meds aren’t either I don’t think. The thoughts, of suicide, of quitting, they’re getting worse. My brain keeps forming reasons to justify it, but I...I don’t want to die. There’s so many things that I haven’t gotten to do yet.” Stan takes a deep breath, tears are pricking his eyes thinking about losing his battle.  “It makes me angry, and sad. I don’t want to be like this anymore. I want to be able to walk in a room and not make an itemized list about all the things that need to be organized, or the germs that could be present. I want to live...I want to live without my illness controlling me.”

 

“Stanley, would it be okay if I brought your mother in? I believe it is time that we start discussing some more strenuous options for your treatment.” Stan nods and tucks his knees up to his chest, waiting in the room as Dr. Parr leaves to go get his mother. She comes in a moment later, worry still etched on her face as she sits beside Stan. He can’t look at her, guilt swarming his brain. Four more taps.

 

“Stanley, Mrs. Uris. I believe that it is time for a drastic change in treatment. The drugs and therapy a few times a week do not seem to be working. There must be some outside stimulus that is causing such a relapse after Stanley has made so much progress.” Dr. Parr looks down at his notebook, rereading his notes. “Stanley, how has school been?”

 

“Fine, I guess.” Stan shrugs, but decides to elaborate when the room stays silent. “I mean it’s junior year, and it’s a little stressful with thinking about upcoming college applications and other stuff, but I don’t think that’s what is causing all of this.”

 

“Hmmm.” More notes being jotted down. “And your little friends...Richard and Edward? How is your friendship with them going?” Stan doesn’t like this line of questioning.

 

“Great. They’re my best friends. There’s not much to say there.” Stan is lying through his teeth. Eddie and Richie don’t need him anymore. It’s only a matter of time before they completely ditch him. They have each other now, they love each other in a way that Stan so desperately craves to have with someone. He wouldn’t blame them if they wanted to freeze him out and keep to themselves.

 

“I see. Ma’am, how have his eating habits been? You are still monitoring them, right?” Stan’s stomach clenches as he waits for her response. He hasn’t been making the progress with his eating compulsions like they wanted. He tried very hard...well he tried sometimes to manage the obsessive thoughts surrounding his food but it was no use.

 

“He’s eating again. At least, he’s eating breakfast and dinner when he’s at home. I can’t really say what happens when he’s out of the house.“ She sighs heavily, she’s tired, Stan knows that she’s sad and tired. This is not how she expected her life to go. It’s his fault. “He still won’t eat any foods that touch each other. Still eats the different foods in order. He sorted his m&ms by color the other day, he hasn’t done that in a while.” Stan fights the urge to roll his eyes, the different colors taste different and absolutely should not be consumed together. Dr. Parr jots down even more notes and sighs.

 

“I think it’s time that we discuss the most strenuous treatment plan that we have available here at the hospital.” He looks towards Stan’s mom when he says this, ignoring the boy for the time being. The treatment plan will not be his to choose. “We have an intensive inpatient program here at the hospital for teens with severe mental illnesses. We have doctors and nurses who monitor our patients around the clock to make sure that they are receiving the care that they need, and that they aren’t a danger to themselves or each other. Stanley would have his own room, and daily therapy sessions. Both by himself and with groups. At this point, I think this is his only option. We simply can’t manage his illness outside anymore.”

 

“How long?” His mother chokes out, the severity hits her again, she can’t fix Stan, religion can’t fix Stan, even the drugs and therapy they’ve forced him into for six years hasn’t fixed him.

 

“We have a seventy two hour intake and observation period, where he will be in solitary confinement. No contact with the outside world. Once we observe him for that time, we will see what milestones we would like for him to complete and how he does with them will determine how long he needs to stay. Realistically we are looking at a minimum of three to six months with his current state of mind.”

 

“Will I...will his father and I be able to see him? What about his friends?” Stan’s head is going fuzzy. Three months minimum, they all know that it will be much longer. His brain is working overtime again, head spinning dark thoughts.

 

1...2...3...4. Deep breath. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. They’re gonna lock you away. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath.With the other crazies. You’ve done it now. Couldn’t cover it up. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. STOP!

 

“Of course. We have visitation days on Wednesday evenings and all day on Sundays. We encourage families to come in once the observation period is over to see where their child is, and to learn more about their custom plan.

 

1...2...3...4. Deep breath. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. She’s crying again. You’re breaking her heart. She would be better off without you. Everyone would. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. Lock yourself up. Do the world a favor. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. I CHOOSE!

 

“I want to do it.” Stan all but screams. His mother and doctor look at him, shocked to hear the words come from his mouth. “I would like to be admitted to the program. I need the help.” He turns to his mom, “I want to get better, I don’t want you to have to deal with all of my problems, Mom. It’s not your fault, and I know that you blame yourself. There’s nothing different that you could have done. Let me do the program so that I can get better, so that I can manage this, and we can be a family again.” Stan has tears running down his face that match his mother’s and she pulls him into a hug, rubbing his back like she did when he was little. When they pull apart, Stan turns back to face Dr. Parr. “Can I have a few days before I’m admitted? I’d like to talk to my friends about this. Let them know that I’ll be away.”

 

“I’m not sure that prolonging this is a good idea.” He pauses and looks at Stan’s face. “A day. Today is Tuesday, you could spend the day with your family and friends tomorrow to get things in order, and then your parents can have you admitted on Thursday. I wouldn’t recommend anything longer than that, especially with how you’ve been spiraling.”

 

“”O...okay.” Stan is shaking, what will Eddie and Richie even say? Maybe they’ll be happy that he won’t be around for awhile. Maybe they’ll be happy that he’s actually getting help. “Mom, is that okay? Can I say goodbye to my friends before…?” She nods, and pulls him into another hug.

 

Everything is all set. In less than forty eight hours, he will be admitted to and locked inside the Derry Memorial Hospital psych ward.

 

 

He calls over to Eddie’s house when he and his mother arrive home. He’s not surprised to find out that Richie is over there with Eddie. If he had a super adorable boyfriend, he’s sure that he would spend every waking minute with him, if only his dream guy wasn’t, well, a dream. He tells Eddie that he needs to talk to them about something important, and Eddie suggests that they meet at the good old Derry Diner the next morning to handle whatever serious conversation that Stan wants to have over stacks of pancakes and french toast. Stan happily agrees, maybe the soft pillowy deliciousness of breakfast food will help to soften the gravity of the situation.

 

He sits at the diner waiting. He got there a bit early, not wanting his friends to have to see him scrub the table and reorganize the jellies by type and stacking the butters carefully. He taps his fingers on the table in fours. His shoulders release tension when he sees his friends walk in. Richie has a goofy grin on his face as always, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He’s wearing an awful floral print button down with an AC/DC shirt under it, the juxtaposition of the two perfectly describes Richie. It also contrasts with Eddie’s sherbert orange t shirt and the tiny maroon running shorts that he still insisted on wearing even after growing eight inches taller than he was when he used to wear that type of garment. Eddie isn’t smiling like Richie, he looks apprehensive. He’s worried about what Stan might tell them. He’s been watching his friend drop deeper and deeper recently, and it scares him. He and Richie have no idea how to fix the situation or even help.

 

“Stan the man!” Richie calls out when he sees him and lopes over to the booth, plopping his ass down on the bench across from Stan. “How do you do on this fine morning? Are you ready for copious amounts of sugar as we discuss the finer and not so fine elements of life?” Richie is joking to cover his nerves, it’s what he does, what he’s known for.

 

“Hey, Rich.” Stan’s voice is strained. He had cried for a long time with his mom the night before as she helped him back the few items that he would be allowed to take with him to the hospital. When he had drifted off to sleep it was fitful, he tossed a turned, there were no fields of daffodils, no sweet boy to take away his pain. “Eddie.” He nods as his other friend sits down.

 

“Stan. Is everything okay? Your call, it worried me. I know something is going on with you, Stan, I just wish that you would have clued us in earlier.” Eddie’s eyes are big and brown and filled with the worry that is caused by years of being mistreated. Before Stan could answer the waitress, Myrtle came over to take their order.

 

“Boys.” She addresses them nodding. “What’ll it be today?” She records their orders patiently. The other boys look at Stan like he’s grown an extra head when he orders a larger french toast platter with extra strawberries, blueberries, and whipped cream. He also asks for a coffee. Stan never indulges in what he eats, never gets the large side or asks for extra anything. He would pick at his food for hours, barely consuming anything when it was a low day, but he was going to be institutionalized in less than twenty four hours with shitty food, so he figures he should go out with a bang. Myrtle drops off coffee for Stan and Richie, and a glass of chocolate milk for Eddie, and the boys decide to continue their earlier conversation.

 

“Stan, I know I’m not the most serious of guys, but you’re my best friend, please tell me what’s going on.” Richie is looking at him with his big magnified eyes and Stan melts a little bit.

 

“I’m not getting better. With the meds and the therapy. I’m actually getting worse according to my doctor. The panic attacks, the night terrors, the compulsions. They’re getting worse. My mom took me to see my doctor yesterday, and he thinks that the best option is for me to get admitted to this inpatient program at the hospital…” He looks up from his cup to see the looks on their faces. Both of their jaws are hanging open slightly. Richie’s got tears in his eyes, and Eddie’s eyes show concern.

 

“They want to lock you up in the psych ward? They think it will make you better?” Eddie asks, a tinge of anger in his voice.

 

“They do.” Stan nods, he taps his fingers against the pulse point on his wrist. 1...2...3...4... “And I agree with them. I think it’s the best option.”

 

“What the fuck, Stan??? You can’t be serious!” Eddie guffaws, and turns to look at Richie for his support, but Richie is staring down into his own cup of coffee now. “Tell him how ridiculous this is, Richie.”

 

“This doctor....he thinks that they can help you in there?” Richie has to clear his throat a few times to get the words out. Stan nods sadly at him. “Can we still see you? Talk to you? Do you know how long you’ll be in there?” Now Eddie is looking between them like they are both idiots.

 

“My best friends are fucking idiots. I can not believe that the two of you are here discussing the fact that Stan being locked away in a sterile box with crazy people could cure him. Psychiatrists aren’t even real doctors for crying out loud.”

 

“They are real doctors. They deal with mental illness, Eddie.” Stan turns his attention back to Richie. “I have to be in isolation for the first seventy two hours so they can observe me, see what treatment plan will be best within the program, but after that, yeah, you can come visit. Or write letters...or I can call...if you two even want anything to do with me anymore.”

 

“Stanley Uris. You shut your whore mouth. Of course I’m going to want to see you and talk to you. Eds too.“ Eddie nods along with him in confirmation. “You’re our best friend. There’s never going to be a time when I don’t want to talk to you.” Stan blushes, his brain tells him that they are lying, but he fights it.

 

“Thanks, Rich. You too, Eddie.The doctor said I’ll be in for a minimum of three to six months based on how severe my case is...it could be a lot longer if they don’t find a way to fix me. If I’m too fucked up.”

 

“You’re not too fucked up, Stan.” Richie whispers, “And if you are, it’s because everyone is a little fucked up. If you believe that this will help and that it’s what is best for you, then I support you one hundred percent.”

 

“Me too.” Eddie chimes in, “Of course. You know that we love you and will always support you. When do you have to go in?”

 

“I have to check in tomorrow morning. They wanted me to go in last night, but I asked for longer so that I could talk to you guys first.”

 

“Oh my God. Well then, let’s make your last day out a good one.” Richie says, ideas already filling his head. Myrtle sets their food on the table and they did in. Stan enjoys every single last bite of his french toast. The go to the movies, the record store, take a walk in the park, get ice cream so tall that the cones can hardly hold the weight, and they laugh. Stan’s last day before he goes into treatment is spent making memories that will help him push through the months to come.

 

 

He’s admitted into the hospital at nine the following morning. His mother holds his hand as they talk to the intake nurse and fill out forms. When they call his name and it’s his turn to go back, his mother holds him and they both cry. She promises that she will be at the hospital as soon as the observation time is over and he tries to smile at her as they pull away and he has to leave.

 

He follows the nurse to a room down the hallway and strips when she tells him to do so. He has to be in the clothes that the hospital provides during observation. It feels like his humanity is being stripped away, but he follows her instructions. The nurse put a wristband on him, and leaves him alone in the room. The door locks behind her and Stan looks around. There’s literally no stimuli in the room that could activate his obsessive compulsive disorder and he’s relieved about this. But the empty space means that he’s alone with his thoughts. He sits on the rubber mattress. He’s fine, and then he feels stinging pain in his wrists, it burns all the way up his forearms. He’s never felt like this before. The walls feel like they’re closing in on him, and his breathing picks up, the voices are in his head. 1...2...3...4….Deep breath. It’s not working. Everything is swimming and he’s out, falling to the floor as his panic attack overcomes him.

 

He’s in the field of daffodils again, but something is wrong. The boy, he’s just laying there. Stan calls out to him, but nothing happens. Then he’s gone. Stan is screaming, thrashing, trying to find him. He can’t fucking find him, he knows that something is wrong. He wakes up gasping for breath. He’s surrounded by nurses and being held down to the bed as a doctor goes to jab him with some syringe. His heart feels tight and his mind blank as he slips under again.

 

 

He makes it through the remainder of his seventy two our lockdown fairly uneventfully. His brain won’t let him sleep, he’s still wrapped up in the other boy disappearing, but he can’t explain that to anyone. He’s not real. He tells himself over and over again. He almost believes himself.

 

Stan is happy when he gets released from observation and is moved to his very own room. He gets his small bag of things. It’s been gone through and checked over to make sure there’s nothing in it that Stan could use to hurt himself or others. His mother had packed him all of his favorite pajamas and his special baby blanket that he had always kept on his bed, despite now being sixteen years old. He had packed some of his bird watching books, two sketchpads, and his pencil case that held all of his other supplies. His father had also stuck a pocket sized copy of the Torah in there, in the desperate hope that Stan would come back home a good and cured Jewish boy. Stan wonders what his father would do if he ever found out that he was gay. He shudders and pockets that detrimental line of thought for some other time.

 

He smoothes out his baby blanket evenly on his bed. The green blanket has colorful birds embroidered in three of the corners, and a golden ‘S’ embroidered in the last. His mother had worked on it while she was pregnant with him. He moved to his desk and set it up neatly. Everything in place. Stan looked out the window and saw that he was fortunate enough to have trees outside of his window rather than just a parking lot. He hopes that there will be birds out there from time to time, something to keep him occupied. He opens his sketchbook and starts drawing, it’s the boy again. The sharp angles of his face. The piercing blue eyes. Stan let’s himself obsess over every detail of his perfect face. Memorizing it.

 

His mother visits him that night, as she promised she would.

 

 

He keeps his head down around the other patients, not wanting to step on anyone’s toes. He talks when he is spoken to and laughs along with jokes like everyone else. He’s just glad that the new meds seem to be working. They’ve just brought in a new patient. Everyone had been talking about it for the past two days since he was brought in for observation. Stan has no idea how they find these things out, he wonders what was said about him.

 

He grabs one of the bird books that he had brought and the journal that his mother gifted him during her visit and brings them out to the common room during rec time.

 

Stan sits at the table that he has claimed to be his and opens his book and journal. He begins sketching the figure of the California Condor, paying special attention to the majestic bird’s feather patterns. He laughs along to some kid named Bryan’s joke when he starts mouthing off. He’s almost finished with the right wing, when he feels eyes on him.

 

Standing in front of him is a tall and lanky boy, with piercing blue eyes and messy auburn hair. Without even thinking Stan smiles at him. His brain feels calm, no longer fighting with him, for the first time in a long time, Stan is sure that things are going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so sorry that it took me so long to update. I got swamped with requests and some personal things this past week, and didn't manage my time well. My goal is to post updates to this fic on Sundays. Thank you so much for reading, and for those of you who leave kudos and comments, I love and appreciate you so much. This story is incredibly special to me because of everything dealing with mental health, and I want to do these characters and their story justice. Their relationship will build before we get to the aspect of writing that I am most known for in this fandom...aka gay smut. I think that's all I have to say for now, stay tuned for more updates that actually get posted on time! ❤️❤️❤️


	3. Progress

Bill’s brain short circuited. He was now standing in the rec room staring at the other boy like a damn idiot. Stan tilts his head a bit, wondering if he is imagining the daffodil boy in front of him, maybe the meds have kicked in a bit too much. Stan waves his hand a bit, and dream boy seems to snap to attention and walk over to the table.

 

“H-hi. I’m s-sorry for s-st-staring. I promise I’m n-not a c-creep.” Bill rushes the words out of his mouth, eyes still wide as he stares at the boy. He feels a connection there, he knows that he’s seen him before, met him. There’s familiarity there, but he can’t place it. 

 

“Hi.” Stan giggles out. The sound echoes through Bill’s ears and warms his heart. “I didn’t think you were a creep. Wow...you’re real.” Stan barely whispers the last part, but Bill hears it.

 

“Y-yeah. I’m r-real.” Bill looks at him a bit confused, but this whole situation is having that effect on him. He slides into the seat across from the other boy. He extends his hand in greeting, “I-I’m Bill.” Stan’s heart almost stops when he notices the bandages on Bill’s arms, he has to drag his eyes away from them and then takes Bill’s hand in his own.

 

“Stanley Uris, my friends usually just call me Stan though, or some other awful nickname that involves that.” Bill smiles at that, it sounds familiar. He knows that his friends have a million different nicknames for him as well. Stan smiles back and continues, “It’s nice to meet you, Bill.You just got here today, right?” 

 

“W-well, a f-few days ago, b-because of o-observation, but n-new to the g-group I g-guess.” Bill blushes at the way that Stan seems to hang on his words, listening attentively and nodding in understanding. Bill isn’t used to people really listening to him like this, certainly not at home. “H-how long h-have you b-been here?” 

 

“Almost a week. I uhm, I decided to admit myself after talking with my mom and doctor. I needed help that I couldn’t get while I was at home.” Bill opens his mouth to ask, but Stan already knows. “Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Anxiety, primarily. It was managed for a while with medication and therapy, but my compulsions and panic attacks have been getting progressively worse. Couldn’t risk hurting myself or someone else.”

 

“D-Damn. Are y-you feeling b-better?” Bill asks, eyes caring in a way that has Stan’s insides turning. He nods, and gives Bill a little grin. Bill returns it before he shares his own story. “I...uhm...I t-tried to k-kill myself. A f-few days a-ago in the B-Barrens, but I f-failed. My f-friends found me and b-brought me t-to the emergency r-room. My p-parents didn’t w-want to deal w-with me, s-so they put m-me in here.” Bill’s eyes begin to fill with tears, it sounds even worse as he describes it out loud. How could his parents be so heartless?

 

“Oh, Bill.” Stan blanches, he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. His heart aches for Bill. “I’m so sorry, but I’m glad that you stayed, that you failed I guess. I would have never met you otherwise...that sounds weird. Oh my God. I’ll stop talking.” He flushes and Bill finds it adorable. 

 

“I’m g-glad I got t-to stay l-long enough t-to meet y-you t-too.” He smiles and it’s genuine. All of his smiles in the last five minutes since he met Stan have been genuine, he’s not sure when the last time he could say that was. 

 

A portly nurse enters the room and declares that it is time for group therapy sessions, Bill tenses up, but Stan just tells him to follow him and grabs his books and supplies. Bill does as he’s told and they shuffle into a small room off of the rec room that has about ten chairs in a circle. Bill sees other patients heading into two more rooms, but he doesn’t ask about them, he just sits in a plastic yellow chair next to Stan. An older woman in a flowing floral print skirt and oversized sweater seems to twirl into the room, she reminds Bill of one of his elementary school teachers, dark curls pinned up on her head and strong features.

 

“Alright everyone, let’s come in and settle down.” She says in a bright voice, and the other seven teens in the room seem to comply. Bill fidgets slightly in his chair, trying to settle his nerves. Stan smiles over at him before the woman begins talking again. “Now that everybody is here and ready, why don’t we go around the circle, say our names, why we are here, and one positive thought from today.” The kids in the circle all groan in distaste and the woman smiles tightly, trying to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Bill thinks that it is incredibly rude and inappropriate that she would ask them to state their diagnosis, or why they were stuck here. It’s personal, way too personal. “Okay, I’ll start, to model what I want to see from you. My name is Doctor Francine Wallace, I’m a psychiatrist trying to help youths like yourselves with ay mental issues that they might face, and today my positive thought is that I am very thankful to be married to my wonderful husband.” Bill can sense that Stan is rolling his eyes without even looking at him. “Let’s continue shall we, we will start with Stanley and move around the circle, oh. I see a new face! Yay!” 

 

“My name is, Stanley Uris.” Stan says, cutting her off and attempting to save Bill from some embarrassment. “OCD and anxiety. Today I thought that sometimes bad things happen so that good things can follow them up and give us hope. Super cheesy, I know, but I feel inspired.” Bill feels flutters in his stomach and smiles when Stan looks over at him.

 

“Thank you, Stanley.” Doctor Wallace says, beaming at his response. She turns her attention to Bill next, a smile spreads across her face. “Let’s move on, Sweetheart welcome to group, why don’t you go next.”

 

“Uh. Uhm. O-okay.” Bill stutters out and can feel his cheeks heating up. “M-my name is, B-Bill Denbrough. I’m h-here for…” He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. “I’m here b-because I tried t-to kill m-myself last w-week, and f-failed.” He hears a few gasps around the circle, but everyone is shooting understanding and supportive looks at him. “M-my positive t-thought for today c-came right before w-we came in h-here. I’m h-happy to b-be alive.” He gets some claps and smiles for that one. He can’t quite decipher who is genuinely happy and who is either faking it, or only happy because of their meds. Stan pats him on the back, and Bill sincerely hopes that he can rely on him to be genuine.

 

The rest of afternoon group therapy is relatively uneventful. Doctor Wallace has them repeat some key aphorisms that she claims are important for their success, and some other patients share out about some breakthroughs that they have made in their treatment. They finish with a required to be enthusiastic exclamation of their therapy motto; “Keep coming to group, it really works!” 

 

 

Bill is waiting for Stan to retrieve something from his room when a nurse finds him and pulls him out of his thoughts.

 

“Mr. Denbrough?” Bill turns towards the nurse and nods. “You have an outside phone call. We will have to discuss rules and procedures for this type of thing later, but for this one time, we will let you take the unscheduled call.” Bill nods and follows the nurse to a small cubicle with a phone in it.

 

“H-hello?” He says when he has sat down and pressed the phone to his ear. He doesn’t know who to expect on the other end of the phone.

 

“Bill! Thank God! It’s so good to hear your voice.” Mike’s voice comes through the receiver loud and clear, and it sounds beautiful to Bill. “How are you? Is it alright in there?”

 

“Mike. I’m s-so happy t-to hear y-your voice.” Bill lets out, he can feel the tears stinging his eyes already. “I’m g-good. L-listen, Mike. I...I w-want to t-thank you, and B-Bev and B-Ben, for p-pulling me out of t-the water a-and saving m-my l-life.” 

 

“Bill.” Mike chokes out, and Bill knows that Mike is getting emotional as well. He can’t believe that he put his friends through all of this mess. At the time he was so consumed with how much his parents despised him and how much he missed Georgie, the darkness thick in his brain and heart, he didn’t think about his real family. The only three people who had ever loved him unconditionally and supported him through all of his highs and lows. “We love you. You’ve got to know that. When Bev found you, we panicked, we felt like we had let you down, like we should have picked up on it.”

 

“No!” Bill assures quickly, “T-there was n-nothing that you c-could have d-done. Everything h-hurt, Mikey. I d-didn’t know if I c-could keep g-going. My h-head feels b-better now t-though.”

 

“That’s good, Bill. I’m glad.” Bill can hear a slight smile in Mike’s voice. “So, how is it on the inside? Meet any interesting people or are you separated from everyone? We don’t really know how this works…”

 

“T-there are other k-kids here. I j-just got out of i-is-isolation earlier t-today. I m-met someone w-who is k-kind of amazing. L-like a r-ray of light in h-here.” Bill starts, and Mike hums to encourage him to continue. “H-his name is S-stan. I s-swear that it f-feels like I k-know him f-from somewhere. L-like a d-dream.”

 

“Like Sleeping Beauty? I know you I danced with you once upon a dream?” Bill snorts at Mike’s reference and lets out a laugh. “What? That was a solid reference Denbrough! You sound quite smitten with this Stan fellow.”

 

“I g-guess I k-kind of am. D-don’t make t-too much of it t-though, Mikey.” Bill shakes his head, remembering all of the times that Mike had snowballed an idea out of control in his mind only to realize that he had gotten ahead of himself. Mike had a big imagination, Bill always thought it must have come from his love of books and research, he could build castles out of small ideas. “B-besides, someone l-like him, w-wouldn’t want a h-headcase l-like me as a f-friend.” Mike sighs on the other line, Bill always doubted himself.

 

“Don’t let that brain of yours convince you to not be friends with him, Billy. You are quite amazing. I will slap you when I see you if you protest.” Bill keeps his mouth shut, he knows that Mike would make good on that promise. “Hey, I just remembered, the next visiting hours are on Wednesday night, would it be okay if me, bev, and Ben came to visit you?”

 

“Y-yeah…” Bill’s breath catches in his throat. “T-that would b-be really nice M-mikey. I w-would really l-like that.” The nurse is back and motions that it’s time for Bill to end the call. “I’ve g-got to g-go, Mike. T-thanks for calling. I’ll s-see you on W-wed-wednesday.” Mike says goodbye and Bill hangs up the phone, heading back to the rec room for a headcount and to meet up with Stan before it’s time to head to the mess hall for dinner.

 

 

“W-what the f-fuck is t-this?” Bill questions, staring in horror at the gray sludge that is on his dinner tray, when he sits down across from Stan at the mess hall table. Stan laughs and shakes his head.

 

“Some kind of mystery meal. Best to just swallow, no questions asked.” He quickly spoons some into his mouth and demonstrates for Bill. 

 

“T-this is f-fucking bullshit a-and inhum-mane.” Bill lets out, but spoons some of the gunk into his mouth. He gags when it hits his tongue, every nerve in his body telling him to spit it up, but he fights the urge and swallows. “N-no.” He states simply and pushes his tray further away from him.

 

“Such a baby, aren’t you, Billy?” Stan smiles at him so that Bill knows that he’s only teasing. Bill rolls his eyes at him in response. “It’s not that bad. It’s super high in protein and essential vitamins. It’s mainly so they can monitor our nutrition intake and make sure that we aren’t skimping on meals. It’s harder for the patients with eating disorders to track their intakes with food that’s non descript like this.” Bill nods at the explanation, but still doesn’t touch his food. He decides to change the subject.

 

“Stan, I s-swear I know y-you from s-somewhere. D-do you go to D-Derry High?” Bill asks, he still can’t place where he knows the other boy from.

 

“Mmm, nope. My parents make me go to the Brighton Academy. I wish I could just go to Derry High. It’s way closer and my best friend Richie goes there.” He says taking another bite, he knows that he can’t tell Bill about his dreams, about seeing him in them, he will think that he is an absolute lunatic.

 

“R-Richie? Richie Tozier?” Bill asks, eyes widening a little bit. Everyone at school knew Richie Tozier. He was the class clown, but also an absolute genius when it came to anything related to math. He also happened to be really good friends with Beverly. He had hung out with Bill’s group a couple of times but they weren’t really close. Richie’s boyfriend went to Brighton Academy like Stan did, and he chose to spend the majority of his time with him. Bill couldn’t fault him for that.

 

“That would be him.” Stan laughs. “Should I be concerned that you knew him immediately? I mean, he’s a real trashmouth at times, but hopefully you’re not sworn enemies.”

 

“Ha. N-no. I l-like Richie al-alright. He’s f-friends with m-my best f-friend Bev.” Bill explains. Then adds as a second thought, “He’s w-wicked smart.” Stan nods to that.

 

“He is. He hides it well when he wants to. It drives Eddie absolutely crazy.” Stan smiles at the mention of his other best friend. He really misses them. Bill raises his eyebrows in question. “Oh. Eddie is my other best friend and Richie’s boyfriend.”

 

“Oh. I’ve h-heard about h-him, but I d-didn’t know h-his name.” Bill nods. Now that he thinks about it he can faintly remember Beverly mentioning that his boyfriend’s name was Eddie, but Bill had only been half paying attention. His depression causing him to start disassociating. 

 

“So, you said your best friend was Beverly, right? Anyone else waiting for you at home?” Stan prompts. He’s finished his own grey sludge at this point and begins to pick at Bill’s. Bill slides his tray closer to him so he can eat all of it, should he choose to.

 

“Y-yeah, my other b-best friends, Mike a-and Ben.T-they’re like my f-family, because I d-don’t really h-have one at h-home.” Stan frowns a little at Bill’s words, he knows already that Bill hasn’t been given what he deserves.

 

“Sometimes the best families are the ones we choose, not the ones that we are born into.” Stan muses in between bites. “What about a girlfriend? A guy as good looking as you has to have them falling at your feet.” Stan knows that he isn’t lucky enough to have his dream boy be in his life AND also be gay. He’s got to have some pretty little cheerleader waiting for him on the outside. Much to his surprise, Bill starts laughing.

 

“N-no. No g-girlfriend.” Stan quirks his eyebrow, and Bill clarifies. “I m-mean, I like g-girls and all, b-but I p-prefer boys. I’m bisexual. A-and single a-as all g-get out. D-depression makes it k-kind of h-hard to be a g-good boy-boyfriend.” Stan feels a slight glimmer of hope form in his chest, but he tries to smoosh it down. Someone like Bill would never go for a headcase like him, he’s too damaged. Too many problems. He had heard it all before.

 

By the end of dinner they’ve decided that their friends would all get along wonderfully together. Bill tells Stan that Mike, Ben, and Bev will be coming to visit him on Wednesday and is pleased to know that Richie and Eddie are coming to visit Stan. Maybe they can all hang out together in the visitation room. 

 

 

Monday nights in the ward are considered to be reward nights. All patients who have been working sufficiently towards their weekly goals according to staff are allowed to attend. Tonight is movie night, and Bill and Stan file in with the other fifteen or so attending patients. The find a spot at the very back and lean against the wall, getting as comfortable as they can be while a nurse fumbles with a VHS copy of The Wizard of Oz. Bill reckons that he’s seen this movie at least a hundred times, it was his mom’s favorite, back when she actually enjoyed things. 

 

The movie has barely begun, still black and white with a twister on the loose, when Bill starts feeling antsy. Memories of his family watching this movie flooding his mind. Georgie laughing when the Cowardly Lion runs and hides. His mother humming along to ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’. It’s all so painful.

 

He starts fiddling with the bandages on his wrists, feeling the urge to press into the scars, to feel the searing physical pain, to take away from the emotional strain that prickling at his heart and making it hard to breath. He feels a hand, pulling at his, stopping him from wrecking his bandages.

 

The hand is warm and soft, and slides right into his, allowing their joined hands to rest comfortably between them. Stan rubs his thumb soothingly on Bill’s hand. He can’t help the smile that comes across his face, and he silently nods and thanks Stan for the comforting gesture. They hold hands for the rest of the movie, and when Stan gets tired, he lets his head rest on Bill’s shoulder.

 

Bill thinks that he would watch the Wizard of Oz a million times more, if it meant that he would have Stan this close to him. ‘Progress’ he thinks, overcoming the pain of a trigger is most definitely progress.


	4. Relapse

The slide of a relapse is one of the most incredibly painful and distressing things that any human being can experience. For those who suffer from a variety of mental illnesses the experience is even worse.

 

1...2...3...4. Deep breath. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. What do you think you’re doing? Have you forgotten who you are? No one could ever love you. You’re such a freak. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. Acting all nice and everything, Bill will know that you’re full of shit. He will leave you. He doesn’t need you, like Eddie and Richie don’t need you. He will never love you. HE WILL NEVER LOVE YOU! NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU!. Stop crying. You’re so weak. You’re fucking pathetic. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. STOP!

 

It didn’t stop though. Stan couldn’t will the thoughts away this time. He had woken up soaked in sweat, the night terrors had caused him to thrash around in his bed. They were a clear indicator that he was about to enter a depressive episode, but the nurses hadn’t picked up on that fact. His mom would have. She would have known that the demons were back in full force in her little boy’s brain, and at least tried to jump into action. He had painful scratches up and down his arms, from trying to get out the phantom creatures that had been crawling around under his skin. He needed them out. They had to get out.  To make matters worse, he had wet himself as he slept. He hadn’t suffered that sort of regression in years.

 

Stan calculated almost immediately how bad his situation was. As the invasive and destructive thoughts took over, Stan prayed that it would stop. He just wanted it all to stop. He wanted to be better. He wanted to be normal. The words kept coming though, kept burning themselves into his brain, even as the world twisted around him, medical professionals trying to help him. Stan could never have prepared for what his body would physically go through next.

 

WORTHLESS. It took three nurses and two doctor to control Stan’s thrashing to the point where they could get his wrists and ankles into the restraints. Stan willed his mind to stop fighting, to control his limbs, but he couldn’t. His body was seizing.

 

BROKEN. Stan screamed, tears running down his face. It wouldn’t stop, why wouldn’t it stop. He’s spiraling again, feels his body trying to shut down. Sleep, it needs sleep, needs to heal itself. His mind won’t stop though, it never stops.

 

MISTAKE. Stan was seizing again, his stomach lurched and suddenly he feels acid in his throat, and then vomit is pouring out of his mouth. The nurses rush to get him out of his binds so that he doesn’t choke, they need to get him on his side. He had never had a physical reaction like this before. He feels a needle prick his side, some fluid is pressed into his body by the syringe. Tears were flowing down his cheeks, mouth still leaking bile and stomach acid. This wasn’t the way that he wanted to live. Stan felt the blackness creep into his mind  as he finally managed to pass out.

 

-

 

Stan woke up some hours later, mind groggy from medication and forced sleep. He blinked his eyes open a few times, trying to clear the remnants of sleep. His room was dark, barely any light seeping in through the small window of the door. It must have been late at night, Stan realized that he must have been sleeping a lot longer than he originally thought. It was so quiet, Stan would usually find comfort in this, but in this moment it was deafening. He was not alone in the room though. He startled when he saw a body slumped over in his desk chair, it had been pulled close to his bed. He started to panic, worried about who this person was and why they were sleeping in his room.

 

1...2...3...4. Deep breath. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. Why are they here? Who is it? They must have sent someone in here to get you. To kill you. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. You’re going to die. They’re going to kill you. They can’t help you, no one can, so they will leave you to rot and die. They know that you’re worthless. A waste of space. They know. They know. They’ll never let you live. 1...2...3...4. Deep breath. STOP!

 

Stan went to lift his hand, he noted that it was no longer cuffed in restraints, and gently tapped the figure on the shoulder of the intruder. He tried to steady his breathing, to prepare for whoever it was, but they made no movement to wake up. He tapped again and the other person finally began to stir.

 

“W-What are you doing here? Why are you in my room?” Stan asked, anxiety laced in his voice. He flinched away when a hand reached out to touch him.

 

“S-Stan. It’s m-me, it’s Bill.” The voice said softly and Stan sighed a little in relief. It was Bill. It was just Bill. His daffodil boy. It was okay. He allowed Bill to grab his hand, and felt light take over his body, a deep sense of calm that he couldn’t seem to explain. He could faintly make out Bill’s face in the extremely dim light of the room, he looked concerned, his big blue eyes scanned Stan’s face, trying to make sure that he was safe.

 

“Bill. I’m so...relieved that it’s you. I hurt so bad.” Stan felt tears running down his face, he hadn’t realized that he was crying. Bill leaned forward, tentatively wrapping arms around him in a hug. Stan leaned into the touch, to let Bill comfort him and rock him in his arms.

 

“S-Shhhh. It’s o-okay, Stan. I’ve g-got you.” He whispered, comforting him with his words as well as his physical presence. “I’m h-here. Shhhhhh. J-just relax.” He rubbed circles and shapes on his back, Stan counted the strokes, 1...2….3...4....Bill was setting his pattern, he hadn’t even told him and he just knew. Stan sniffled a few more times before pulling back and looking at Bill.

 

“How’d you get them to let you in?” He asked sniffling, Bill ducked his head down, looking downright sheepish. “Holy shit, Bill. They don’t know that you’re in here?”

 

“Sssssh, l-lower your v-voice.” Bill’s eyes darted to the door, making sure that Stan hadn’t disturbed anyone. “I m-may have c-convinced a nurse t-to let me c-come see you.”

 

“How?” Stan looked at him skeptically, there was no way that any of the stiff nurses in the ward would break protocol like this. They had routines and procedures in place that separated patients, it made no sense.

 

“Ugh, w-well. One of t-the nurses f-from the E-emergency Room w-was monitoring you, and it t-turns out that s-she has the h-hots for m-my friend M-Mike.” Stan shook his head, it was absurd. Bill let out a little laugh and Stan could feel his mouth tugging up at the sides in reaction to it. “S-so, she t-took pity on m-me, because I w-was freaking out a-about not s-seeing you and s-she let me c-come in for a w-while.”

 

“You were worried about me?” Stan asked, trying to mask how much the idea of that sent chills through his body in the best of ways. Bill blushed, but nodded. “Thank you for...for caring. I’m...I’m really messed up, Bill.” The other boy took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

 

“We’re all m-messed up, Stan.” He replied carefully. “Trust m-me, I k-know.” He held up his still bandaged wrists and Stan’s heart ached. “No one is p-perfect, it’s a-about learning to c-cope, I g-guess.”

 

“I don’t know if I can, the voices they never leave me alone.” He confessed, “They say awful things, Bill. And, the worst part is I know that it’s my OCD and my anxiety playing tricks on me, but I still can’t stop it.” Bill seemed to think it over for a moment before he spoke again.

 

“W-What were t-they saying e-earlier?” Bill questioned softly, he was holding Stan’s hand again, thumb stroking over his knuckles. 1...2...3...4.

 

“They were…” He choked out, he never wanted to admit what his brain told him, he knew how truly vile and awful the things it said were. “That I was worthless, and broken. That I should kill myself, that no one needs me, or wants me. That no one ever will. That I’m a mistake.” Bill’s heart broke as he heard Stan say those words.

 

“Stan, n-no. It’s n-not true.” Bill rushed out. “Y-you are important, y-you are n-needed. I need y-you.” He confessed. It was very forward of him, but he felt as if he had never spoken truer words. He felt it deep within him, he needed Stan.

 

“I need you, too, Bill. So so much.” He cried softly. They sat together for a while longer, until the nurse came to the door and told Bill that it was time for him to go back to his room. He gave Stan another hug and waved on his way out. Stan settled back into his bed. He didn’t know whether to be concerned or content with the drastic impact that Bill seemed to have on his mental wellbeing.

 

-

 

Stan was woken up by a knock on his door. It was Wednesday morning, two days since he was woken up by his episode and mere hours since he woke up to the sight of Bill slumped in the chair next to his bed.

 

“Good morning, Stanley.” An older man said, it was one of the doctors on staff, Dr. Braxton if Stan’s memory served him correctly. Stan nodded to him in response, looking pointedly at him, waiting for the doctor to say why he was there. “Stanley, as I’m sure you have been able to gather, your episode on Monday was quite advanced. I looked over your record personally and saw that while you sometimes have convulsions and blackout during panic attacks, this was different than that, I’m afraid. You suffered from what we call a Psychogenic seizure. It happens as a result of someone's reaction being too painful or difficult. Their thoughts and feelings begin to affect them physically, and mimic that of a seizure.”

 

“So, it’s worse than a panic attack?” Stan asked, trying to hold his composure, the doctor’s tone was doing nothing to help ease his nerves. The doctor nodded. “I don’t...I don’t understand what brought it on. I didn’t have any of my normal triggers. I was feeling better.”

 

“We believe that it has something to do with the cocktail of prescriptions that we had you on. It was very aggressive. We would like to scale back, and might even consider some holistic options.” Dr. Braxton provided. Stan scoffed.

 

“Are you seriously telling me that drinking some chamomile tea and breathing in lavender is really going to help? I’ve tried all of those before. That’s shit.” Stan seethed. He was broken, and they were supposed to fix him. If the medication couldn’t fix Stan, he didn’t know if anything else in the world ever would. Before the doctor could respond, Stan continued, “I don’t understand. Why would the medication cause this? Shouldn’t you have already known that it would be too much?”

 

“Everyone is different, Stanley. Some patients can handle strong combinations of prescription drugs, and some can not. I can’t begin to tell you or even guess why it didn’t work, only that we will be working to find another combination that does. Your progress and safety is our number one priority.” Stan nodded to this explanation, even though he really just wanted to roll his eyes. “We have one more thing to discuss, I’m afraid that you won’t be happy about it. As a team of doctors, we aren’t sure that it would be beneficial for you to participate in the visiting hours this evening. We don’t think that you could handle it.”

 

“WHAT?” Stan squawked, taken aback and downright outraged at that accusation, he could absolutely handle it. “No. NO. My friends are coming to see me. I want to see my friends. No. This isn’t fair.”

 

“Young man, I suggest you take a deep breath and try to get a hold of yourself.” Irritation obvious in Dr. Braxton’s voice. Stan wanted to slap him, how could a doctor who was supposed to specialize in mental health say something as degrading as that. As if Stan could just turn off his emotions. “I understand that this important to you, however there will be other days for visits…” Stan’s eyes started to water, this couldn’t be happening. He needed to see Eddie and Richie, they would forget him, he needed to see them so that they wouldn’t forget. And Bill. Bill’s friends were coming too. They were supposed to all meet, and now they couldn’t it was all his fault. Stan started hyperventilating, and the doctor sucked in a disappointed breath. Like he wanted to be anywhere else that didn’t involve a crying teenager. “Fine. I will make you a deal, and this is your only other option then staying in here whilst other patients get visitors. If you attend your four therapy sessions today, all individual no groups, and the other doctors sign off on it, we will consider letting you have visitation, but we will be monitoring you during that time, and any negative impact means that it’s over. Do we have a deal?”

 

“Yes, Sir. I understand.” He replied, happy that he still had a shot of getting to see his friends, if they even bothered to show up. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, they would come. God he hoped they would come.

 

-

 

Stan’s private therapy schedule meant that he didn’t get to attend any of his group therapy sessions with Bill, or even get to hang out with him during the recreation hour. He was too busy having every doctor ask him the same questions over and over again. Luckily for him, his third session was almost over and then he would get to head to lunch, and he would actually get to see Bill and talk to him.

 

He smiled when he saw him, sitting at their table. He quickly walked over to join Bill, setting his tray on the table. Bill’s eyes shot up in response to someone joining him all of a sudden, breaking his solitude, and smiled quickly when he realized that it was only Stan.

 

“Stan. I w-was wondering w-when I’d s-see you again.” Bill greeted him. He was picking at the mystery meat noodle casserole on his plate, and Stan grimaced at the thought of eating that. He unwrapped his veggie wrap from it’s plastic and stared at it, one of the perks of being Jewish was that he couldn’t consume a large number of things that the cafeteria tried to serve because they weren’t kosher, they had to provide him with halfway decent food, and without another thought he handed half of it to Bill. He didn’t deserve to eat that trash they served. “S-shouldn’t you b-be eating all of t-this?”

 

“Nah.” He shrugged, “They give me way too much anyway, trying to prevent my compulsions from becoming centered around how little food I should eat.” Bill nodded in understanding and took a big bite of the wrap, he groaned at how much better it tasted then what he had been given. “So, the reason I’ve been MIA today is because the doctors are requiring that I go to four private therapy sessions today so that I can have my friends visit tonight. Oh...and so I can meet your friends...that is, if you still want me too.” Stan blushed from the implication of assuming that Bill would actually still want that.

 

“Oh. Of c-course I w-want you to m-meet them, and I w-want to meet y-yours too. M-maybe we could all f-form a club.” Bill smiled at him, and Stan felt his stomach flutter. It was a foreign feeling and he did not like it one bit, okay maybe he liked it a little. He took a bite out of his wrap so that he wouldn’t have to speak right away. He swallowed before he responded.

 

“Great, sounds like we have a date…” His eyes widened, where had that come from? “I mean a friend date, since we are introducing our friends and all…” That was not the type of save that Stan would be proud of, Bill looked a bit sad at Stan’s words, but didn’t say anything. They finished their wraps in silence, shoving the semi fresh food in their faces. “I’m glad that I got to eat lunch with you...I actually missed not going to group.”

 

“Oh no…” Bill laughed, “If y-you missed g-group, that’s a s-sign that you are v-very close to w-wearing skirts with m-muted flower p-patterns on them and o-oversized s-sweaters that smell l-like they came s-straight out of a bar.”

 

“Well, William, I am not opposed to wearing skirts, but I can assure you that I will never wear something that has a muted floral pattern on it. Gross.” Stan sassed, and Bill choked on his water when he pictured it. Stan in a short plaid skirt, like the ones he knew the girls at Stan’s school wore. It was a dangerous thought, he wondered how those legs would look in a skirt...he was cut off by an indignant squawk. “Oh my Lord, are you actually picturing it in your head right now? Jeeze, Bill.”

 

“N-no I’m n-not…” Bill protested, but Stan cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh m-my God, s-shut up.” He dropped his head to the table and Stan laughed, really laughed with feelings and everything. He always laughed like that with Bill.

 

-

 

“Okay, fine, Stanley.” Dr. Braxton grumbled, looking over the notes in Stan’s file. He had been unable to find a single reason in the notes from Stan’s private sessions to hold him back. “You may participate in the visitation. We have a few conditions though.”

 

“What are they?” Stan rushed out in nervous excitement, he was going to get to see his friends, and meet Bill’s, the night was going to be great. If his doctors didn’t ruin it for everyone. The look on the doctor’s face told him to calm down. He probably wasn’t going to like the terms of this agreement.

 

“The first, is that you must remain in an observation room with your guests, away from the regular patients and their visitors…” Stan couldn’t stop himself from interjecting.

 

“Doctor, I’m friends with another patient in here. We were hoping that we would be able to introduce our friends to each other.” He said as politely as he could considering that he had just cut the other man off. Dr. Braxton sighed in discontempt.

 

“Stanley…” He stopped when he saw the hopeful look on the boy’s face. “Which patient? I need to make sure that there isn’t a trigger concern. I will also need to know how many friends each of you plan on having.”

 

“Bill. Bill Denbrough. He came in a few days ago.” Dr. Braxton nodded in acknowledgement and jotted a few things down on his pad. “My two friends are planning on coming, and I believe that his three friends are planning on coming too...”

 

“So, there would be seven of you in total?” Dr. Braxton questioned and Stan nodded slowly in response. “That’s a lot to handle stimulation wise, Stanley. Especially considering your condition…”

 

“I can handle it.” Stan assured. “I promise that I can, and if it gets to be too much, I’ll tell them that I need to leave.” The doctor didn’t look convinced, frankly if it were up to him, Stan would be locked in his room all night with no visitors, but he had taken pitty on the boy and cut him that deal, he never thought that he would actually even manage to reach the requirements to get to this conversation.

 

“Fine. We will try it out. The seven of you will be in an observation room. That’s still condition number one.” He relented, and Stan nodded, waiting to hear what other hoops he would have to jump through. “Second, you will be limited to two hours, and then you will need to meet with myself or another available doctor to check on your progress. This is non-negotiable. Finally, if we sense any amount of undo stress or any behavior that may indicate that you are about to have an attack, we will come and get you immediately. Your mental health is our number one priority, and we are not willing to let some visitation time interfere with your treatment. Understand?”

 

“Yes, sir. I understand, and I will follow all of your rules. Thank you for letting me have this opportunity.” Stan might have been laying it on a little thick with his politeness, but Dr. Braxton seemed to visibly relax at his words.

 

“Thank you, Stan. I’ll leave you alone to get ready.” Stan nodded in thanks and immediately rushed to the tiny cupboard that served as a closet in his room. He definitely wanted to look nice to make a good impression on Bill’s friends, and to show Richie and Eddie that he was still the same person that they had been friends with forever. Looking nice for Bill would be an added bonus, but Stan refused to let himself harp on that.

 

-

 

Stan smoothed his hands down over his khaki clad thighs, trying to make sure that everything was wrinkle free and presentable. He was fixing the tuck of his baby blue polo for the eighth time when he heard a knock, he turned to look at the doorway and his breath caught in his throat.

 

“W-wow. You d-dress up nicely, S-Stan.” Bill said, letting his eyes rake over Stan’s body slightly. Stan blushed in response, ducking his head a little bit. Bill was dressed in real clothes too, a nice change from the sweatpants and t-shirts that they all normally wore. He wore jeans that clung to his legs, beat up converse sneakers, on top he wore a crisp white t-shirt, and a baggy green and black plaid flannel that Stan wanted to bury his face in for some inexplicable reason. He shook that thought from his head before he could think too much about it.

 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, William. That plaid...it uh definitely works for you.” Stan replied, managing a smirk that had Bill blushing as well. “You ready to go? They should be opening the doors for visitation in ten minutes, we can get settled in our private room.”

 

“P-private room?” Bill quirked his eyebrow in confusion. Right, Bill didn’t know about all of the requirements that Stan had to meet because of his episode. Stan sighed.

 

“In order for me to be allowed to have visitors, I had to agree to some terms.” Stan started, and Bill moved further into the room resting on the edge of Stan’s bed. Stan joined him, “The private therapy wasn’t the only thing I had to do...well getting through that meant that they would give me a list of must do’s...I’m getting off track, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay.” Bill smiled reassuringly. “Just t-take a few d-deep breaths and then s-start from the b-beginning.” Stan followed Bill’s instructions, already feeling more comfortable.

 

“Dr. Braxton gave me a few rules that I have to follow to be able to do the whole visitation thing tonight. The first was that I couldn’t be in the same visitation room with other patients, but I convinced him to let me be in a room with you so that our friends could meet and everything. I hope that’s okay. “ Bill nodded, a smile spreading across his face, and Stan took a deep breath before continuing. “The rest is simple I guess. I have to leave a little early, so that I can check in with one of the doctors, and they can pull me out at anytime if they think I’m on the verge of a breakdown.” Stan shrugged, trying to hold himself together. He realized after listing all of these things off how far gone he must seem. There was no way that Bill was going to deal with a mess as bad as him.

 

“Okay. S-so, we hang w-with our friends f-for a bit, and then w-we say goodbye s-so you can g-go to your meeting. Y-you’ll tell me if i-it’s getting to b-be too much w-when we are in t-the room?” Bill asked, his eyes were kind and Stan felt extremely comforted by them.

 

“Yeah. If it gets to be too much, I’ll let you know. You don’t have to cut your visitation time short, Bill. You can stay with your friends the whole time. I’m messed up, you shouldn’t have to suffer because of it. You’ll stay and have fun with your friends while I go to my session.”

 

“L-like hell I am.” Bill retorted, scoffing at the thought. “We w-will go in t-together, and leave t-together. That’s h-how we are doing t-this, and that’s f-final. Good?” Stan nodded, eyes wide, Bill taking control of the situation was nice. Stan liked not having to be in control. “Now let’s g-go and m-meet our friends, and i-introduce them to e-eachother, and then w-we will leave f-for your therapy s-session and maybe a-after they w-will let us h-hang out together f-for a while.”

 

“Oh...okay.” Stan stumbled out. “That sounds like a good plan. I...uhm...thank you, Bill. I appreciate how understanding you are.”

 

“Of c-course. Let’s go, t-they’ll be h-here any minute.” He stood up and turned around to offer his hand to Stan. Stan took it happily and he and Bill pulled him up off of the bed. Stan’s stomach began to flutter again, when Bill kept their hands intertwined as they walked down the hallway to meet their friends.

 

-

 

“HOLY BALLZ!” Stan felt a smile break out across his face as he heard the familiar voice of his best friend screaming something inappropriate. He began to walk faster, dragging a laughing Bill with him, they burst through the door and were met with the sight of five teenagers who seemed to be in the middle of a paper ball fight. Stan wasn’t terribly surprised to see them goofing off and getting along. According to Bill, they have all met and hung out before, except Eddie, whom to his credit seems to be doing just fine on his own. They all froze in their spots, dropping the evidence of their impromptu paper fight, to look at the boys who had just entered the room, their eyes all seemed to drop to their intertwined hands, and Bill and Stan dropped them before taking a step apart. Richie of course broke the awkward silence.

 

“STAN THE MAN! The Jew with a plan.” Richie moved towards him quickly with open arms and a big goofy grin on his face. He launched himself at Stan and wrapped him in a tight hug.

 

“Hi, Richie.” Stan giggled as he hugged back. “Thanks for coming, I’ve missed you and that trashmouth of yours.” Richie slapped him on the back a few times and moved back. His grin was still on his face, but his eyes, framed by his coke bottle glasses, held concern. “I’m good, Richie. I promise.”

 

“Okay. Okay. I’ve just missed my best friend is all.” Stan nodded in understanding and let Richie pull him into another hug, this one a bit more brief. They heard someone clearing their throat and pulled apart.

 

“Stanley.” Eddie said, his voice sounded polite but it also sounded like it was on the verge of cracking. Stan pulled him into a hug. Eddie clung onto him like a lifeline. Stan could see that Bill was moving towards his three friends and greeting them as well on the other side of the room. He held Eddie even tighter, rocking him slightly. Richie jumped in and wrapped his arms around both of them. “Okay...I can’t breathe...my lungs...need my inhaler.” Eddie gasped out and Stan and Richie moved back immediately. Eddie took a few pulls from his inhaler and then a few deep breaths before he was back to normal.

 

“You alright, Babe?” Richie asked slight concern in his voice, both Stan and Richie knew how to handle Eddie when he got like this, and how to keep enough distance that Eddie felt that they weren’t patronizing him either. Eddie nodded.

 

“I’m fine. It’s good to see you, Stanley. I’ve been worrying non stop about you. Mother says that places like this are notorious for abuse…” Richie motioned for Eddie to stop that line of conversation. “Sorry. You know how I get.”

 

“Stan!” Bill called. He turned his head to the sound and saw the other boy waving his arms to catch his attention. Stan smiled at him, and Bill jogged over to him and let out a loud whistle, gaining the attention of all five of their friends. “Ben, Bev, Mike, this is Stan. Stan these are my friends.”

 

Stan looked at them, they were exactly what he had imagined when Bill had described them to him. Mike was tall and muscular with a sweet smile and eyes that crinkled at the corners. He waved at Stan in greeting, and Stan waved back. Ben was standing next to him, he was a few inches shorter than Mike but was muscular in his own way, evidence of his track career. He smiled at Stan. Then there was Bev. Bev was absolutely gorgeous, flaming red curls and big blue eyes, her cheeks were dotted with freckles. He could tell just by looking at her that she had a big heart. She had saved Bill’s life. She smiled at him, and Stan moved forward to give her a hug. It was out of character for him, but he didn’t care, she had saved Bill when he couldn’t. She hugged him back, and Bill smiled at the sight. They pulled back and Bev cupped his cheek in her delicate hand. Unspoken words in her eyes that confused Stan slightly.

 

“It’s great to meet you guys, I’ve heard so many great things about you from Bill.” He said politely, before moving his attention back to his best friends. “Bill, I know that you already know Richie, but this is my other best friend, Eddie. Eddie, this is Bill.”

 

“William my dear man.” Richie drawled in a British accent that made Stan and Eddie both cringe. “It is lovely to make your acquaintance again old chap, Stan has gushed about you endlessly...OW!” Richie was cut off by Eddie elbowing him in the ribs.

 

“G-great to see y-you again, Richie. He’s s-said all g-good things, I h-hope.” Bill replied easily, winking at Stan over his shoulder. “It’s n-nice to meet y-you, Eddie.” He reached forward and offered Eddie his hand to shake. Eddie took it and smiled.

 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Bill.” Eddie replied, he looked around the room at all of the other teenagers. They seemed nice enough, and he knew that it was important to Stan that they all get along.

 

“Well, nothing says bonding like drinking games... without alcohol…” Richie suggested. “That sounded a lot less lame in my mind. Miss Marsh, would you do me the honors of joining me for a good old fashioned game of truth or dare?”

 

“Why, Mr. Tozier. I would be delighted. In fact, I will speak for everyone and say that we will all join you. Anyone who even thinks differently, can fight me.” She raised her eyebrows at the other boys, but no one made a move to contradict her. They all sat around one of the tables in the conference room. “Hmmm, Eddie, was it? Why don’t you start.”

 

“Oh okay.” Eddie thought over who he wanted to choose. His eyes settled on Ben, at least he thought that was his name, they had raced against each other in a couple of meets. “Ben, truth or dare?”

 

“Uhm, I think I’ll go with truth for now, that seems like a safe option.” Richie jokingly ‘boo’d him, and they all laughed.

 

“Okay, so truth, hmmm…” Eddie thought it over before an idea flashed into his mind. “Do you still take bubble baths? I don’t know guys. That was lame.”

 

“I do.” Ben said, face flushing from trying to keep himself from laughing. “With some nice lavender scented soap and soothing music. It calms me. Especially after a big race. You should try it, Kaspbrak.” Eddie scoffed at the suggestion and all of them laughed. “Alright, it’s my turn. Michael, truth or dare?”

 

“Oh fuck...you already know everything about me, there’s nothing that you could ask me that you wouldn’t know, so truth.” Mike responded and a wicked smile crossed Ben’s face.

 

“Alright, Mike. When was the last time you had a wet dream, who was it about, and you know we are going to need to hear details about positions and the cum shot.” Ben said with a completely straight face, everyone’s jaws dropped, and Mike’s eyes widened in shock.

 

“NO! DARE! I choose DARE!” Mike screamed in protest, but they all shook their heads at him. “Oh fuck, fine. Last wet dream was a few weeks ago, after we went to that sick rager and I drank my weight in Boone’s farm.” Bev and Bill made pained noises in remembrance of that. Bev had gotten the worst hangover of her life, it lasted for almost a full week. Bill had decided to let loose for one night, tried to clear his mind, and as a result drank so much that he had pulled some abdominal muscles from the force of vomiting. It was not a good night for any of them. Ben had somehow managed to get them all home and kept them from dying. “Anyway, we were all in that dog pile in Ben’s basement, and the close proximity...I kind of dreamed that you and I were double teaming Bev, Ben...I’m so sorry, I know you guys are together and I didn’t mean anything by it...it was only a dream…” Mike was cut off by Bev’s giggling.

 

“Oh my God, Mikey. You ever want to make that a reality, you let me know. That sounds hot as hell actually.” Bev offered with a wink, and then Ben groaned from beside her and nodded. He was definitely game as well.

 

“W-well then.” Bill broke the overwhelming heat of the moment. “Mike, s-should I be o-offended that I w-wasn’t part of t-this dream?” He would have looked heartbroken, if not for the fact that he couldn’t keep a serious face. He kept laughing.

 

“Sorry, Big Bill. I love you, man, but nah.” Mike chuckled, and just like that they were all laughing, joking around like it had been the seven of them forever. When they finally calmed down a bit, Mike continued. “My turn for payback, bitches. Hmmm, Bill, truth or dare?”

 

“Based on how this game is going, I’ll choose dare.” Bill said confidently, there was no way that he was risking truth with how devious his friends were being. Not in front of Stan. Mike had a twinkle in his eye, and Richie let out a low whistle at the sight.

 

“Oh, Denbrough. That was a bad choice if you were trying to save yourself from embarrassment.” Richie crooned, Mike had just been embarrassed and he was going to go for blood.

 

“He’s not wrong, Bill.” Mike said, cracking his knuckles. The smile had dropped from Bill’s face and he was legitimately worried about what his friend was going to have him do now. “I dare you...to kiss, the most attractive person in this room.” Bill froze in his seat. Mike knew exactly what he was doing. He had picked up on Bill’s feelings in that first phone call.

 

“Mike!” He squawked out of embarrassment. Mike shrugged, and Bill felt his stomach drop. He wasn’t going to get out of this. Oh God. He squeezed Stan’s hand and Stan turned to look at him, making sure that he was actually okay with the situation, that it wasn’t too much. Stan couldn’t even get a word out before he felt Bill’s lips press softly against his own. He was in shock, but his body took over, deepening the kiss slightly until they were pulled out of their moment by the others catcalling and hollering. “H-holy s-shit.” He managed to get out, wide eyes looking into Stan’s deep brown ones. Then Stan smiled at him and pecked him once more before he was moving back into his own space. Bill felt like he couldn’t breathe, maybe Eddie would lend him his inhaler. “M-my turn?” He asked, trying to clear his mind from that world shattering kiss. The rest of them nodded looking at him. “Stan, t-truth or dare?” He asked.

 

“Hmmmmm. I don’t know. Dealer’s choice.” Stan licked his lips slightly, just enough for Bill to pick up on and he gulped. This boy was going to be the death of him.

 

“Dealer’s c-choice is d-dare…” He was nervous, but he had to know that Stan actually felt the same. He had to take the risk even if it could lead to him having a broken heart. “K-kiss the person y-you find most a-attractive in t-this room.” Stan smirked, but then grabbed the sides of Bill’s face gently and pulled him in for another kiss. It was soft and sweet and had Bill wanting to beg for more.

 

“Hmmm, well Hanlon, with the way that this one kisses, you not including him in your dream orgy is your loss. His mouth is truly something else.” Stan teased, and Bill turned as red as a tomato. He had no idea where he had gotten so much confidence from, but if it meant that he would get to keep kissing Bill, he would do anything.

 

“Okay, ew, enough. All this talk of getting it on and I’m getting no action at all!” Richie protested, giving a betrayed look to Eddie, who rolled his eyes in response. “Oh my God, Eds. Bev is planning a threesome, Bill and Stan look like they are already eye fucking, and all I’m saying is that Little Richard would like some attention!”

 

“Richie, I will literally strangle you, if you do not stop. And it won’t be in the kinky way that you like.” Eddie warned. Richie went to protest, but he thought better of it. He sighed deeply, acting like he was incredibly disappointed.

 

“Well, if we are all going to be friends and hang out, we should give ourselves a totally badass name.” Richie mused, finally smiling when Eddie moved to curl up beside him and give him some attention.

 

“What? Like a club?” Bev asked from her spot between Mike and Ben. Richie nodded, and started tapping his chin like he was in deep thought. “A club of Losers.” Bev muttered affectionately.

 

“BY GOD MARSH, I THINK WE’VE GOT IT!” Richie cried jumping out of his seat, and climbing onto the table. They all protested and told him to get down but he continued. “We are the....Losers Club. It’s perfect.”

 

They all thought it over and agreed. They played another round of the game and then sat around and joked until it was time for Stan and Bill to leave. They all hugged each other and promised that everyone would be back next Wednesday for the next club meeting.

 

As they walked down the hallway hand in hand, Stan and Bill couldn’t wipe the smiles off of their faces. Their friends had gotten along really well, better than either of them could have hoped, and they had kissed. Stan couldn’t believe that this was his real life.

 

Stan hoped that Bill was right and that they got some alone time after his session, because he definitely wanted to spend some more time getting acquainted with Bill’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to hold off on the physical stuff with our precious boys for a little bit longer, but I couldn't help it. Whoops! 
> 
> I am soooooooooo sorry that this update took so long. I'm going to make more of an effort to update once a week, but I can't promise a specific day for updates. I've been going through some stuff personally, and focusing long enough to write has been difficult. Thank you for baring with me, I hope this update was worth the wait! Thank you so much for reading! ❤️❤️❤️


	5. Confessions

“BILLY. BILLY, WAKE UP!” Tiny hands were shaking Bill awake, he let his eyes flutter open. He knew that voice. He turned his head to the side, he was in his bed at home, but it was different. It was warm and homey like it was when he was a child, it hadn’t been that way since...GEORGIE! 

 

Bill sat up quickly, head spinning, he blinked a few times to make sure that he was seeing things correctly. He just couldn’t believe it. There on the end of his bed sat his baby brother, watching him with careful eyes, still very much alive. He looked the same as Bill remembered. Seven years old, with those big brown innocent eyes, and the ghost of a smile always playing on his lips.

 

“G-g-georgie?” He asked in disbelief and the little boy nodded, cocking his head to the side as he watched him. Bill could feel tears pricking his eyes, Georgie was sitting in front of him, he knew this couldn’t be real but it was so nice to just be in the moment.

 

“Hi, Billy.” Georgie smiled at him, and Bill flung himself forward, pulling Georgie into a tight hug that had the little boy giggling. “I’ve missed you, Billy. You look old.”

 

“W-what?” Bill asked before catching his reflection in the mirror across the room. Georgie was right, he didn’t look the same as he did the last time he saw Georgie, when he was thirteen. He looked seventeen, his face was the same as he saw in the mirror everyday...but then why was Georgie…? He sighed, he needed to stop trying to make sense of this. “I’ve m-missed you too, Georgie.”

 

“Stop thinking so loud, Billy.” Georgie told him, pulling away from the hug and sitting back down on the bed, criss cross applesauce. Bill mimicked his position across from him, struggling with his long imbs to do so. 

 

“H-how are you h-here, Georgie? Why a-are you h-here?” Bill asked finally. He had so many questions, he didn’t even know where to begin. 

 

“I’m here to talk. You need to talk.” Georgie answered, fiddling slightly with the blanket in front of him, like he always did when they used to have their brother to brother conversations. He reached forward and grabbed Bill’s wrist, turning it over to look at the bandages that were covering his stitches. “Why’d you do it, Billy?” He had tears in his eyes, and Bill could feel his own forming.

“It w-was too much. I m-missed you. I d-didn’t...I didn’t know w-what else to do.” Bill cried. “I w-was overwhelmed, I f-felt alone. I wanted t-to be w-with you again.” Georgie placed his small hand over Bill’s large one.

 

“I’m always with you, Billy. You can’t die. You have so much more to do here.” Georgie told him as a clap of thunder shook their surroundings. “Promise me that you’ll keep living.” Georgie held out his pinkie for Bill, and Bill hooked his own with his.

 

“I p-promise, Georgie.” Bill said, and Georgie smiled at him. The rain poured down outside, like it had  _ that _ day, but for the first time in a long time Bill didn’t mind the rain. It was actually sort of relaxing. 

 

“Come on, Bill. Let’s go for a walk.” Georgie said getting off of the bed and heading towards the door. Bill started to protest, but Georgie cut him off. “Shush, Bill. Let’s go. You’re not vomiting out of your nose this time. You have no excuse.” He sassed, and Bill sighed. He should have never used that excuse all those years ago, he was sick but he shouldn’t have let him go out alone. 

 

Bill slipped a rain jacket on, tying his Doc Marten boots tight. Georgie had his yellow rain jacket on and his green rain boots. He grabbed Bill’s hand and pulled him outside, barely giving him time to close the front door behind them. The rain was still coming down in sheets, but Georgie kept moving, kept pulling Bill along with him. They walked for a long time, their surroundings blurring, Bill couldn’t remember seeing anything that stood out as Derry once they turned off of their street. 

 

“W-where are we g-going, Georgie?” Bill asked, but just got a smile from the little boy in response. They were surrounded by trees now, walking through a forest of sorts, Bill was getting even more concerned about where they were. Then all of a sudden, Bill knew exactly where they were going. He walked alongside Georgie as the trees parted, and there they were in the field with the daffodils. Bill had never seen it in the rain, it was still beautiful, just different.

 

“You recognize this place?” Georgie asked when they reached the middle of the field. He plopped himself down on the ground even though it was wet, and patted the ground so that Bill would join him. Bill groaned as he sat down, the moisture soaking into his jeans in an unsatisfactory way.

 

“Yes.” He breathed out, he ran his fingers across a few blossoms that were within his reach, they seemed to be duller than the brilliant yellow they usually were in his dreams. Suddenly everything seemed darker, Bill’s head filled with all of those helpless thoughts, the loneliness, everything that had led to that day when he took the blade to his wrists in the Barrens. Georgie sent him a sad look, like he knew what was happening in Bill’s mind. His world began spinning, he felt like he could hear Georgie calling out for him, but he was giving in. He wanted to float. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and just as quickly as the darkness had arrived it was gone. The rain stopped suddenly too, bright sun shining down on them, the color of the flowers radiant all around them. He looked up to see who the hand belonged to.

 

“Hi, Bill. Are you alright?” Bill’s heart felt relieved at the sight of golden brown curls and a beautiful smile. He nodded and tugged on Stan’s arm so that he would sit with them. Stan sat down next to him and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

 

“Ewwwwww.” Georgie mocked, and Bill turned his attention back to him. He looked even younger out in the sun, reminding Bill of all the adventures they would go on together. 

 

“Sorry, Little Man.” Stan said, shooting Bill a smile to let him know that he wasn’t sorry at all. He held out his hand for the small boy to shake, and Georgie did so, a little timidly. “My name is Stanley Uris, and who might you be?”

 

“My name is George Elmer Denbrough.” Georgie said proudly, just as Bill had taught him when he was small. “You may call me Georgie though, everyone does. Right, Billy?” 

 

“R-right, Georgie.” Bill confirmed nodding. “Georgie w-was...is m-my little b-brother.” Bill explained and Stan nodded and shot Georgie a genuine smile.

 

“So Georgie, what do you know about birds?” Stan asked with a smile, and just like that the two of them were talking and laughing. The three of them spent hours playing in the field, running around, and laughing. Bill got to watch his two favorite people interact with each other. He could tell how much Georgie absolutely loved Stan, beaming every time that he bent down to talk to talk to him or ruffled his hair. Stan loved Georgie too, every time that Georgie would point to another bird, pride would shine in Stan’s eyes. Stan and Bill stood hand in hand watching Georgie chase some butterflies, and it was the most calm that Bill had ever felt. He felt warm. 

 

_ Knock Knock,  _ And it all faded.

 

-*-

 

_ Knock Knock. _

 

Bill woke with a start, when the nurses knocked on his door for the wake up call, hoping in his heart that he would be back in his old room with Georgie. He was not of course. He was back in his gray nondescript room in the psych ward. Bill could feel all of the happiness from his dream seep out of him, he felt some residual warmness from the memories, but the darkness and numbness were back.

 

He forced himself to get changed into some clean sweats for the day, brushed his teeth and made a half assed attempt to comb his hair. It all seemed very monotonous and mundane, Bill wished that he could go back to sleep, back to the dream, back to that slice of happiness in the field.

 

He dragged himself down to the mess hall for breakfast, and then walked over to sit at his usual table with Stan, he nodded to the other boy, but kept his mouth shut, pushing his scrambled eggs around on his plate. 

 

“Hey, Bill.” Stan tested, trying to draw a response out of Bill. He knew something was off about him, Bill was never shut down like this, at least not around him. Even on his bad days, he would talk to Stan. Bill only grunted slightly. “Hey, so I was thinking that maybe you could help me with my bird drawings during rec today, the proportions are technically correct but I could use some help with the artistic finesse.” He looked at Bill waiting for a response, Bill glanced at him briefly and nodded but didn’t speak. He stayed silent during the rest of breakfast and through their first group session.

 

Stan had a solo therapy session before lunch, and spent his moments before the doctor came in reminiscing about how wonderful hs dream the night before had been. He wondered briefly if Bill had had the same dream, he wasn’t sure how any of this worked. It seemed so improbable that he would know Bill in his dreams first, and yet it had happened, so maybe their dreams were linked too. 

 

Bill had introduced him to his little brother in the dream that Stan had had the night before. Georgie. He was adorable. Stan had never been particularly fond of children, they were messy and unpredictable, but Georgie was different. He was special. Stan figured that he felt that way because he was related to Bill, and how could Stan not love something related to Bill. Maybe when they finally got out of this place, back into the real world, he could meet Georgie for real. He would take the little boy birdwatching, maybe he and Bill could take him swimming down in the quarry. It would be amazing. 

  
  


Stan got even more worried about Bill when he was not responsive during their rec time or lunch. Stan pulled out all the stops; he asked for Bill’s help on his drawings, rubbed his foot up Bill’s calf under the table, and moaned slightly suggestively when he sucked all of the pudding off of his spoon at lunch. Bill only groaned and nodded, showing no emotion at all, so Stan decided that he had to take matters into his own hands.

 

-*-

 

Stan headed over to the nurses’ station before he went down to dinner and was relieved when he saw Nurse Jessie. She was the one who helped Bill sneak into his room the night of his episode, if anyone could help him it would be her.

 

“Hi, Nurse Jessie.” He greeted with a smile, she looked up from her work and smiled back at him sweetly, it almost made Stan feel even guiltier about what he was about to do.

 

“Well hello there, Stanley. How are you doing today, honey?” She asked, voice just as sweet as her smile. She set her papers aside and focused her full attention on him.

 

“I’m fine, thank you. How about yourself, did you do something different with your hair?” Eddie always got mad at Stan because he could turn his charm on like this, Stan blamed it on having to be fake nice to everyone who visited the common room after Temple.

 

“Well, I did use a new brand of hot rollers. I guess they made my hair look a bit different.” Stan smiled and Stan nodded politely, she quirked her eyebrow a bit watching him. “Alright, fess up. Why are you really here talking to me? I know it’s not about my hair.” Stan gritted his teeth slightly and sighed.

 

“Okay, I need a favor.” He relented, and she gave him a pointed look. “I can make it worth your while…” He offered and she still looked skeptical.

 

“What’s the favor, and what could you possibly do to make it worth my while?” She asked, tapping her fingers on the surface of the desk.

 

“I was wondering if you could maybe let me see Bill for an hour tonight after lockdown. Something is going on with him and I need to find out what it is. If it is just the two of us he might talk to me.” He explained, and she nodded slightly for him to continue. “So, to make it worth your while...a little birdie tells me that you happen to be quite smitten with my friend Mike...” 

 

“Now...I...don’t make it sound like something it is not. Mike is eighteen and I am only twenty three it is not that much of a scandalous thing…” She said trying to defend herself, Stan looked at her blankly calling her on her bullshit. “Fine. I find Mike very attractive. So what?”

 

“You help me with Bill, and I will set it up so that Mike will take you out for a nice milkshake.” He offered, and he could see her eyes light up a bit. He would have to apologize to Mike profusely later for using him like this. Mike was a good guy, who would do it without question to help his friends, but Stan wasn’t quite sure where he stood relationship wise after his confession to Bev and Ben during visitation. “So what do you say, Jessie? Can you help me?” She thought it over for a moment and then sighed dramatically.

 

“Ugh, fine. You can have one hour outside of your rooms for lockdown, but you can’t be in any of the common areas, there are cameras.” She relented. Stan smiled slightly in victory.

 

“That’s perfectly fine, I know just the place.”

 

-*-

 

Jessie knocked on Stan’s door when the other nurses had all left about forty five minutes after their nightly lockdown began. She smiled at Stan and unlocked Bill’s door leaving him to head back to the desk to monitor everyone else. Stan crept into Bill’s room quietly, careful to not disturb him if he was sleeping, but instead he found Bill sitting at his desk blankly staring at his sketch pad. He gently placed his hand on Bill’s shoulder and Bill automatically leaned into his touch. He turned to look at him and his blue eyes were glassy, rimmed with red. 

 

“Hey, Billy. Can I take you somewhere special?” He asked softly, rubbing his thumb across Bill’s cheek. Bill nodded and let Stan take his hand leading him out of his room. 

 

They wound up in the old library nook. Stan had found it when he had first got there, there was a small area in the very back where there were large picture windows that overlooked the down of Derry. You could see all of the streetlights and the cars passing through the town. It calmed Stan, and he hoped that it would have a similar effect on Bill. There were no daffodils, but it would have to do. He sat down in front of the windows and pulled Bill down with him. He gave Bill a few minutes to soak it in, before he cracked. 

 

“I know that something is wrong. You’ve got to talk to me, Bill. You’re scaring me.” Stan confessed looking over at the other boy. Bill choked out a breath, and then the flood gates opened. He began sobbing uncontrollably. Stan pulled him into his arms, holding him tightly as he cried. “What’s going on in the beautiful mind of yours, Baby?” He asked softly. 

 

“I...I...I k-killed him, Stan. It w-was my fault. I s-should have b-been there to p-protect him. I was s-supposed to a-always protect him.” Bill sobbed out, miserable, Stan ran his hand up and down Bill’s pack like his mother used to do to him when he would get upset as a small child. 

 

“Who, Bill? Who were you supposed to protect?” Stan asked carefully, but he just started sobbing even harder, it took Bill a few minutes to compose himself enough to answer.

 

“G-Georgie.” He let out, and Stan’s heart stopped in his chest. The sweet little boy they had played with in his dream, that he loved so strongly despite just meeting him. He was dead. “I s-shouldn’t have let him g-go out alone. It w-was raining, and I w-was sick, but I s-should have stopped h-him. He would s-still be alive.” He let out, Stan pulled back slightly so he could look Bill in the eyes.

 

“It’s not your fault, Baby. Whatever happened to Georgie, it’s not your fault. You were his big brother, but that doesn’t mean that you could stop anything bad from happening.” Stan assured him, but Bill kept trying to duck his head in doubt. “What happened to Georgie, Bill?” Bill finally looked him in the eyes, sadness filled his blue ones.

 

“W-we don’t k-know for sure. H-he went miss-missing, and they found h-him down in t-the barrens w-where the sewers d-dump out.” Bill explained, and Stan’s heart clenched again, not knowing must have been even worse. Bill clearly blamed himself for Georgie’s death. 

 

Stan held Bill as he cried for a little bit longer and then they sat there in silence, alone with their thoughts. Bill felt almost relieved, now that Stan knew, but also heartbroken at the thought that his dream was as close as they would ever be to actually knowing each other, Stan broke the silence.

 

“I was just thinking...we have so much to learn about each other still. We have seventeen years worth of stories and jokes and troubles, seventeen years of everything to fill each other in on.” Stan mused, and Bill looked over at him.

 

“T-that’s a lot of t-time, Stan. A lot of b-baggage...at least f-from me.” Bill said, gripping Stan’s hand tightly in his own. Stan looked over at him and smiled, it made Bill’s heart skip a beat.

 

“I can’t wait to know everything there is to know about you, Bill. All of your little quirks, your talents. I can’t wait.” He confessed and Bill couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. 

 

“Y-you really want t-to keep me a-around?” Bill asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. Stan nodded at him. “W-why?” Stan looked at him for a moment.

 

“Because you’re special, Bill. I felt it, even before we met. Now that I’ve met you, there’s no way that I could go back.” He said genuinely, and Bill was slightly confused about what he was saying about knowing him before they met, but he knew it was true. 

 

Bill pulled him in for a soft kiss, sliding his hand up to cradle Stan’s jaw. Stan returned this kiss, moving his lips with Bill’s, deepening it. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He gently pushed Bill back and moved to straddle his hips, pulling him in for another kiss. Bill moaned at the feeling of Stan on top of him. Stan broke their kiss and began kissing down Bill’s neck, careful to not leave any marks for the nurses and doctors to question. 

 

“W-we could g-get caught.” Bill let out, breath shaky from how worked up he was over the motions of Stan’s lips on his neck.

 

“Mmmm, you want me to stop?” He asked, pulling back. Bill shook his head, and Stan smirked. “I didn’t think so.” Stan pressed his lips back to Bill’s, sliding his tongue into his mouth when he gasped at the feeling. Bill rocked his hips up into Stan without even thinking. His cock already hard in his pajama pants just from making out with him. Stan groaned as he felt Bill’s cock press into the crevice of his ass. “Ohhhhh.” He said in surprise, and Bill blushed. Stan moved down slightly and rocked his hips against Bill’s, his hard cock rubbing against Bill’s through the thin fabric of their pajamas. 

 

They started off slowly, trying to find each other’s preferred rhythm, but soon they were full on dry humping each other, trying to find their release. It was sloppy, they tried to keep their mouths together but had to break apart to moan out as they rocked together.

 

“Ohhhhhhh.” Bill came first, right in his pants. He threw his head back and closed his eyes tightly. “G-god, Stan, so f-fucking good, so f-fucking pretty.” He murmured, and Stan let out a small laugh, still thrusting against Bill’s hip, trying to reach his own climax. He was so close, but he couldn’t quite get there. “H-here, Baby, let m-me help.” 

 

Bill flipped them over so Stan was on his back. He pressed kisses to his neck as he snaked his hand down, palming Stan’s hard cock through his pajama pants. Stan whined and moaned at the feeling, and Bill swallowed the sounds with a kiss, keeping his hand moving at a fast but even pace. Then Stan was stilling for a moment before his body began twitching and Bill could feel the wet spot of cum under his hand. He pulled his hand away and kept kissing Stan, helping him ride out the wave of his orgasm.

 

They laid there on the carpet for a little longer, hands intertwined. Stan played with Bill’s fingers, bringing his hand to his lips every once and a while to press a kiss to it. He almost didn’t mind how sticky he felt in his underwear, because he was with Bill. Jessie called for them a little while later and they both stood, trying to straighten themselves up a bit. Stan started to walk away, but Bill caught his hand and pulled him back.

 

“T-thank you for t-this, Stan. For b-being so under-understanding about e-everything.” He said softly, Stan smiled back at him. 

 

“Of course, Bill. You’re special. I already told you.” Stan said sweetly. They shared one more kiss before they headed back to their rooms to sleep.


	6. Show Me

Stan hummed to himself quietly as he made his bed, for once not stressing about how perfect each crease and corner was. 

 

Memories of the night before were running through his head. The feeling of Bill’s lips on his own, their bodies pressing against each other, chasing their releases. Stan’s mind had felt at peace, and now all he wanted was more. More Bill. 

 

There was a knock on his door signaling that it was time to head down to the mess hall for breakfast. He fluffed his pillows one more time before heading out, pleasantly surprised to see Bill waiting for him outside of his door; hands in his pockets, sketchbook tucked under his arm, and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

 

“Hey.” Stan greeted with a smile, and Bill’s blue eyes darted up to meet his, a slight blush present on his features. “Ready to eat?” Stan asked, motioning towards everyone else was heading. Bill nodded and they shuffled down the hallway. Stan chanced a few glances at Bill as they walked, taking in his angular features, the way his auburn hair fell into his face. He was breathtaking. 

 

They made their way through the line to grab their food and then settled down at their regular table. Stan grimaced slightly at his yogurt and granola before looking over at Bill’s tray, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

 

“You didn’t get bacon, Bill? You always get bacon.” Stan observed, looking at Bill’s gray oatmeal.

 

“Uh, y-yeah, well you c-can’t have bacon b-because it’s not k-kosher.” Bill explained, and Stan quirked his eyebrow at him, unsure of where this was going. Stan might not be able to eat bacon himself, but he didn’t hold any negativity towards others eating it. Bill seemed to pick up on Stan’s uncertainty and flushed again. “You c-can’t have it, and I k-kind of was h-hoping that I’d g-get to kiss you a-again...I d-don’t know h-how that w-would work…”

 

“Oh.” Stan let out followed by a bright smile a few seconds later. “I’ve never really thought about that before...but I’ve definitely thought about kissing you again.” He admitted and Bill’s face lit up. 

 

“Y-yeah? Okay, I’ll k-keep that in m-mind.” Bill said with a smirk that had Stan’s stomach fluttering. Bill turned his attention to his sketchbook for a second, running his hand over the well worn cover. “I uhm...I w-was wondering if m-maybe you’d want t-to look at m-my sketches?” 

 

“Bill…” Stan gasped, Bill was protective and secretive when it came to his sketchbook. He never let anyone touch it, Bev had even made a comment about that fact. “You want me to look at your work? You...you don’t share that with anybody.”

 

“Y-yeah well, y-you’re not just a-anybody, Stan. I w-want you to s-see, to k-know.” Bill explained and Stan could feel his heart thumping in his chest, the effect that this boy had on him was palpable. “So d-do you w-want to see?” He asked hopefully.

 

“Show me.” Stan said simply, a sweet smile crossing his face. Just then the nurses began sweeping through, instructing their patients to clean up and head to their recreational areas. Stan was grateful that it was Sunday, they only had one group session in the late morning and one in the afternoon before visitation hours, and other than that they were allowed to socialize and be on their own. “Let’s go somewhere more private...your room?”

 

Bill nodded and they dumped their trays, smiling at the nurses before heading back down the hallway and into Bill’s room. Bill closed the door as much as he was allowed to before heading over to sit on his bed. The bed was made, but it was a little sloppy compared to Stan’s, but he didn’t mind at all. He happily sat down next to Bill, scooting closer so that their thighs were touching. 

 

Bill took one more look at his sketchbook before he handed it over to Stan, who took it gratefully. He carefully opened the cover, not wanting to do any damage to the book. 

 

The first few seemed to be sketches of things that Bill had seen around Derry. Stan recognized the diner on Main Street and some of the forest scenes from around the quarry. It was nice to think that Bill had seen so many of the same things that he had himself, but in a different way. A different light. 

 

The next page made Stan gasp. He knew this place. This dark and damp place that Bill had depicted in perfect detail. It was the sewers that ran under Derry. He knew the sewers because of his dreams. He tried to shake it off. Flipping to the next drawing. This one was even worse, it looked like an abandoned circus cart with a big sign advertising “Pennywise the Dancing Clown”. Stan let his fingers ghost over the lettering. Bill sucked in a breath next to him, and Stan knew that he needed to tell Bill about his dreams, but not now. Bill had chosen to be vulnerable, and Stan needed to be strong for him. 

 

He flipped through a few more pages of similar scenes before something caught his eye. It was a portrait of his own face. The features he knew so well from the mirror, in graphite on the thick paper. He bit his lip as he turned the page and found even more. His face drawn over and over again. Stan stopped on one in particular, in the picture he was holding a bird and staring at its features in wonder. He turned his head to look at Bill, who ducked his head and blushed. 

 

“Bill...these are beautiful, but I don’t look like this. This boy...this boy, he’s perfect.” Stan muttered, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. Bill scoffed next to him.

 

“Stan, t-this is exactly h-how I see you.” Bill told him, brushing a stray curl that had fallen out of Stan’s face.

 

“You can’t say things like that to me, Bill.” Stan said quietly, ducking his head and biting his lip.

 

“Why n-not? You l-lifted me up l-like this last n-night, why c-can’t I do t-the same for y-you?” He asked, quirking his eyebrow in confusion. Stan sucked in another deep breath, turning his body to face Bill.

 

“You can’t say things like that to me...because...your words are only making me realize that I’m falling in love with you.” Stan confessed.

 

“Me too.” Bill replied almost immediately, Stan shot upright at the response.

 

“What?” Stan asked in disbelief. 

 

“I’m m-most definitley f-falling in love w-with you too, Stanley.” Bill told him, before leaning forward and capturing Stan’s lips in a kiss. Stan melted into it, shifting and pushing Bill further onto the bed until he could straddle him properly. Forgetting where they were in that moment. Bill pulled away breathlessly after a few minutes, chest heaving as he looked up at Stan.

 

“Mmmm, you’re also like incredibly attractive.” Stan told him, and Bill couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at that, he was laying in his bed in the psych ward of a hospital and the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life was sitting on top of him, telling him that he was beautiful. “You have no idea, Bill. Just what you do to me, and all of the things that I want to do to you…” Stan told him, biting his lip as he looked down at him. 

 

“Like w-what?” Bill asked, slowly rubbing his thumb across the top of Stan’s waistband, teasing the heated skin there.

 

“We can’t do them in here, so why does it even matter?” Stan huffed, moving to slide off of Bill, but Bill’s hands kept him firmly in place. 

 

“One d-day we will g-get out of here, and w-we can be t-together. I want t-to know what I c-can expect then.” Bill told him with a sweet smile. 

 

“Yeah? You think that you’ll still want to be with me even when we get out of here? With all of the judgemental bullshit out there?” He asked and Bill just nodded, there was nothing else that he had ever wanted as much. 

 

“So n-now you can t-tell me all of y-your fantasies r-right?” Bill asked, pushing himself up into a sitting position with Stan still in his lap. Stan covered his face with his hands, now embarrassed that he couldn’t control his tongue before. “T-tell me, Stan.” Bill urged with a hint of dominance, and Stan let out a moan, his remaining resolve breaking.

 

“Mmm okay.” He relented staring to trail his fingers down Bill’s chest as he moved back a little. “Well, I kind of really want you inside of me...” Bill sucked in a breath as Stan’s fingers dipped lower, moving with purpose across his abdomen now.

 

“Uh huh. W-what else? Be s-specific?”Bill choked out, lifting his hand so that his fingers could ghost along Stan’s jaw.

 

“I uh, I want to taste you. I want to feel you choking me as you slide down my throat. Want to make you fall apart just from my tongue.” Stan groaned out, and Bill nodded in approval, squeezing Stan’s shoulder to prompt him to continue. “I want you inside of me in another way too...filling me up so well as you take all of me and make me yours. I want to feel our bodies moving together, faster and harder until you’re screaming my name, and I’m screaming yours.”

 

“I-is that a-all, Stan?” Bill asked, breath coming out labored, Stan could see the bulge growing in Bill’s sweat pants and he let his fingers ghost over it. Lightly teasing. Bill moaned at the contact that was not nearly enough. 

 

“There’s so much more...I want to get out of this place, this town in general, I want you to come with me. To build a life somewhere where no one knows us or about our ailments.” Stan confessed softly, and Bill pressed a sweet kiss to the palm of his free hand before lacing their fingers together. 

 

“Y-yeah. I want t-that too. So m-much.” Bill agreed, then a thought entered his mind, in the moment he decided to share it, to throw caution to the wind, this was his Stan, and he wanted him to know all of his thoughts. He held up Stan’s left hand, playing with his fingers. “I w-want to see a p-pretty gold b-band on this f-finger, with a m-matching one on m-my own.” Stan’s eyes grew wide at the admission.

 

“Oh. I think that I would really like that.” Stan murmured, before surging forward to kiss Bill again, snaking his free hand even further down Bill’s front, rubbing his growing clothed erection. Bill groaned into the kiss, trying to buck his hips up into Stan’s palm.

 

Suddenly a bell rang, the signal that it was time for everyone to reconvein for their group therapy sessions. 

 

Stan easily pulled away from Bill and hopped off of the bed, before smirking at him. Bill shot him a look of pure betrayal and annoyance before motioning to his crotch. Stan giggled a little, holding a hand out for Bill. The other boy groaned and readjusted himself in his pants as best as he could. He took Stan’s hand and got off of his bed, stopping to tie a flannel around his waist for extra camouflage before letting Stan pull him down the hallway to their group therapy session.

 

He was so lost for that boy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this update was short and mainly soft, fluffy, and a little bit smutty, but I wanted to get an update out to y'all. There will be more intense chapters coming shortly, their little bubble of bliss will have to pop, it is Derry after all.
> 
> Oh my goodness guys...I know it has been two months and I am so very sorry for the long wait for this chapter. Every time that I went to write this or set time aside something else would pop up, but I am committed to Stan and Bill and telling their story, and I hope to be better with updates going forward. 
> 
> I think that there will probably be another six or so chapters in this fic. I will try to have another update for y'all soon, but I have quite a few requests and another series that I need to make sure yet written and updated as well. Thank you in advance for your patience.
> 
> I love seeing comments for this fix, they really keep me going, and help since there is some dark content with this story...so if you would be so kind and leave one I will love you forever! ❤️❤️❤️


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